I'm Banking on It
by The-First-Step
Summary: First it was conscripted killers and now its a killer who walks through walls. Charlotte Myer's life got a little more complicated when she decided to stick around with the men of 221 B Baker Street. Sherlock/OC Sequeal to "A Study in Crimson Colour".
1. Chapter 1

**One**

**Hey everyone this is my new Sherlock Fic and I hope it is as good as my last. Thanks to everyone who has been following my Fics… I wouldn't have gotten anywhere without you guys.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters I this fic accept for Charlie, her family and a select group of extras I deem worthy of being in here. Wish I did however (as im sure do many other people).**

John POV:

"Come on your stupid thing…" John muttered as the high pitched beep told him for the tenth time that the item he was trying to buy was not computing in its system.

"Oh for God's sake work!" He yelled and felt the stares of many people around him. Rapidly losing patience he stormed out of the shop without buying anything and muttering under his breath about London's lack of quality customer service. After a few minutes he calmed down enough to try again and managed to finally buy the groceries for his flat mates. A cab dropped him in front of 221 Baker Street and after thanking the cabbie, cautiously he might add, unlocked the front door and headed up the stairs of the apartment. He opened the door of 221 B on his two room mates who appeared to be steadfastly ignoring him.

"Hello John, get the groceries?" Sherlock asked. Charlie waved from her seat on the couch but kept her head down and studied the open book in front of her.

"No, I had a row with a pin and chip machine." He said and Charlie made a noise that could have been a quiet snort.

"Well I say row, it stood there not working and I yelled abuse at it." John muttered shamefaced as his roommates smirked at him.

"Any luck with cases?" He asked and Sherlock shook his head. Charlie stiffened momentarily and looked over to Sherlock who quirked an eyebrow in her direction. John couldn't see the right side of her face. She quickly returned her attention to her book before anything could be said.

"No." Sherlock said and John stuttered slightly.

"What about that one with the missing diamond…?" He asked and Sherlock shook his head.

"Wasn't interested… I sent them a message." He said and John noted that although the answer was rather blasé Sherlock looked a little tense. He watched as Sherlock began to type on a laptop that stood open in front of him on the coffee table either reading his emails or looking up the five components involved in asphyxiation until John recognized it. He had begun to head back to his room then whirled around.

"Is that my laptop!" He yelled and Sherlock looked up at him from behind the screen.

"Yes."

"Its password encrypted." John put out and Sherlock merely snorted.

"Not very well obviously." Sherlock retorted as John snatched the computer from him and stalked away with it. He placed it in his room before returning to the lounge room and catching Charlie and Sherlock in the midst of a stare off. He could finally see the right side of her face.

"Oh my God Charlie what happened?" He asked and she whirled to face him with a sigh. Her entire right eye was beginning to bruise severely, a lovely mottle of purple and pink which made her green eyes pop and clashed horribly with her crimson hair.

"I fell over in the shower." She said and John wasn't sure whether it was a lie or not… her hair was wet after all.

"I told you so." Sherlock not so wisely muttered and Charlie turned o him in an instant and too of them gazed at each other for a long time.

"Hey guys I'm still here you know." He said and the two broke their contact. Sherlock, for some reason, seemed to look rather guilty and Charlie quite embarrassed. John smiled to himself. Really the pair of them were that thick? He nodded and walked into the kitchen to unpack the bag of food he had bought. Charlie ad returned to her book by the time he returned and he suddenly felt rather embarrassed at what he was about to ask. He gave Charlie a small glance and saw she was rather engrossed in her book so he sat down opposite Sherlock.

"Sherlock I'd hate to sound needy or anything but I'm in a rather tight fix right now, is there anyway I can borrow … are you even listening?" He asked and Sherlock looked at him with a familiar vacant expression that told John his mind was far away from this apartment.

"I need to go to the bank, coming Charlotte?" He asked and the red haired girl sighed but nodded. She pulled a black vintage jacket with golden buttons over her white singlet shirt ad jeans before pulling on a pair of dark sunglasses. They hid the awful bruise from sight and John wondered whether or not the two of them were telling him everything. He himself grabbed his wallet and phone before following a fully dressed Sherlock to the door. He noticed a rather large scrape on the table but decided to say nothing as the three of them exited the apartment and down the stairs. Mrs. Hudson stopped Charlie for a moment and he watched in amusement as the two of them exchanged words.

"She says it's urgent." Mrs. Hudson was saying but Charlie shook her head.

"It's always urgent with her, couldn't get enough of it when I was a child and still doesn't." Charlie said and her aunt sighed.

"She sounded upset Charlie, I think it might have something to do with Francis…" She said and Charlie froze for a moment. John could see her mentally tallying something then she sighed again and a guarded expression fell over her face.

"Tell her I'm out… I can't talk to her right now see?" She said and pointed to the shutting door that had recently house Sherlock. Mrs. Hudson sighed and nodded, kissing her niece on her cheek and stepping back. John allowed her to go through the door before him and hurried to follow her into the awaiting cab.

Charlie POV:

The bank was huge. No enormous. The whole lace was constructed out of metal, glass and escalators and Charlie felt extremely uncomfortable in her rather casual clothes. Sherlock led them up to the front desk and leaned on the sleek counter as the woman looked up at them.

"Sherlock Holmes." He said and she smiled, waving them towards the side offices. Charlie was struck by a thought.

"Sherlock you mentioned you needed to go to the bank… why was that?" She asked and he smiled to himself as a voice called out from behind them.

"Sherlock Holmes!" They turned to see a middle aged man of approximately 35-37 years of age walking over to them with a smile on his face.

"Ah, Sebastian." Sherlock said and shook the man's outstretched hand. Sebastian smiled.

"Well it's been what… eight years since I last clapped eyes on you? Who is this delightful lady?" He asked and held out a hand to Charlie who, fighting not to roll her eyes, shook it in return. Sherlock tensed slightly but gave no outward appearance other than his usual expression of boredom cross his face.

"These are my friends, Charlotte Myers and John Watson." He said and Sebastian nodded and shook John's hand. He gave Charlie a smile that clearly said he thought she was something special, even a blind man could have seen that one. She dismissed him and turned to Sherlock.

"Friends are we?" She teased and Sherlock grimaced. She rolled her eyes and indicated for Sebastian to lead the way. He did so, taking the three of them into a spacious office that overlook a substantial size of London's highrise. She allowed her thoughts to drift back to her mother's phone call, honestly that woman needed to give her space or…

"So...you've been busy, traveling a lot. Flying all the way around the world twice in one month?" Sherlock observed and Charlie snapped back to reality. She studied the man in front of her and smirked at the expression on his face. The man laughed slightly.

"Right. You're doing that thing...we were in Uni together. He could do this little trick..." He began, looking over at John who merely nodded.

"It's not a trick!" Sherlock pointed out and Charlie whispered under her breath.

"Sure it isn't because you hate showing off." He ignored her and the smirk on her face broadened.

"Could tell you your whole life story in one glance." Sebastian continued.

"Oh we know, we've seen him do it." John said.

"Anyway this freak would see you once in the hall and know exactly who you'd been shagging the night before. We all hated him for it."

Charlie's fists tightened slightly at the old nickname. It was one thing for short minded idiots like Donovan to say it but she would have thought an old acquaintance would have known better. Carefully she removed her glasses and threw Sebastian a look that had him actually shuddering. John chuckled quietly and pretended to cough. Sherlock merely smiled, ignoring the comment like he usually did. Charlie replaced the glasses.

"I simply observed..." He said but was cut off.

"You're right though. Two trips around the world every month. I'll bet there's a stain on my tie from some sort of ketchup you can only buy in Manhattan or something..." He joked. Sherlock shook his head.

"No I've just been chatting to your secretary outside. She told me." Sherlock replied lightly. Sebastian laughed at that and started to change the topic.

"There is a stain on your tie though." Charlie piped up.

"Not Manhattan ketchup, just coffee." The man blushed and stuttered slightly before standing and brushing himself off.

"Oh and the secretary you've been shagging is pregnant… don't worry your not the father but I'd settle a few things before she tries to pin it on you." She said and noticed the man's eyes widen in shock.

"Oh God not another one." He muttered almost to himself and Charlie shared a victory smirk with Sherlock.

"Anyway, I'm glad you could make it. We've had a break in." He said and Sherlock leaned forward. Sebastian stood and lead them out of his office. They followed him up to a floor filled with people talking in various languages on phones and typing on computers.

"Broke in late last night." He said as they walked.

"And what did they steal?" John asked.

"Nothing. " Sebastian said.

"Just left a little message."

He scanned a card and showed them into the room. Two seemingly random squiggles had been painted over the eyes and face of the bank's founder with yellow spray paint. He led them over to a computer and pulled up the security footage.

"These two shots are sixty seconds apart." He showed them the two pictures on the screen, one without paint and one with it.

"Whoever did this broke in, splashed paint around and left all within sixty seconds."

"How many ways into this room?" Charlie asked and looked around the spacious room.

"And this, my dear is where it gets interesting..." Sebastian said.

They all stood crowded around a computer as Sebastian showed them all the footage. Charlie gazed at the screen in puzzlement and Sherlock's hand brushed hers due to proximity and both of them jerked suddenly. They glanced at each other then returned their gazed to the screen. Charlotte could feel John watching with some amusement as Sebastian explained that all the doors in the bank were locked with that one computer. She sent him a warning look and he wisely said nothing.

"That door wasn't opened last night." Sebastian said and turned to face the trio.

"There's a hole in our security. Find it and we'll pay you. Five figures." He reached into his pocket and withdrew a cheque. "This is an advance."

"I don't need an incentive. Come on Charlotte." Sherlock said and gently placed a hand on her lower back. He carefully guided her out of the room and Charlie felt as though he place his hand touch was on fire. They both relaxed a touch as they stepped out of the office and back to the international section.

"Sixty second in and out of a room of the highest security and a) they didn't steal anything and b) were not caught on anything remotely helpful to us." She said and sighed as he removed his hand from her lower back.

"They'd have to be professionals, not thieves but something else. Let's take another look at that room." Sherlock said and they retraced their steps. Sherlock began taking pictures of everything in the room and Charlie was beside him scanning through the security images eve though there was no real point. Sherlock opened the window and actually stepped out onto the ledge, eliciting a yelp from Charlie whose furious expression hid the worry she felt. They were a long way up. He turned and saw her expression, stepping back into the room. He smirked and she folded her arms across her chest.

"Care to explain?" She asked and he shrugged.

"I wasn't going to jump." He protested.

"Well I wasn't going to stop you, I'm just worried about the poor person who'd have landed on at the bottom." She teased and he scowled.

"You think they climbed up?" She asked more seriously and he frowned at the window.

"It's a theory." He said and she smirked.

"What if they weren't looking for anything, those squiggles have got to be important…" She said and Sherlock jumped. He ran out of the room with Charlie on his heels. He began to move around the international calls room, jumping and twirling slightly as he made is way through the room. Charlie watched in quiet amusement as he did this then cottoned on as John turned up.

"What on Earth is he doing?" John said between laughs as he watched the tall man bob up and down like a dancer. Charlie smiled and pointed to where he was now pulling a piece of paper out of a doorway.

"Why leave a message to all these people when all you want to do is talk to one person?" She asked him and he frowned in confusion.

"Who is it?" She asked Sherlock as he walked up to them with a small piece of paper in his hands.

"How did you know Sebastian had traveled?" John asked the consulting detective.

"His watch; right time, wrong date. He crossed the international date line twice but forgot to change the date." Sherlock said and John sighed in annoyance.

"Don't fret John, Shirley here just enjoys a good tease." She said and John rolled his eyes.

"Yes thank you Charlotte." Sherlock jeered and the two began to squabble as they left the bank.

"That graffiti is a message. Find the person it's meant for..." Sherlock muttered and Charlotte grinned.

"And they lead you to the guy." John finished.

"But there are 300 people up there, who was it meant for?"

"Pillars." Sherlock replied as if it were obvious. John looked confused so Charlie took pity on him and decided to explain.

"Surely you noticed Sherlock's rather elaborate dance routine back there? He was checking around pillars to see who it was meant for."

Sherlock nodded at Charlie's explanation.

"The time is a clue as well. That was intended for someone who came in at Midnight." He waved the slip of paper before them.

"Can't be many Van Coon's in the phone book. Taxi!"

"I still don't know how you get a tax every single freaking time Shirley. I'd probably have to do a Lady Godiva before one stopped for me first time." Charlie said as she pulled out her wallet, phone, a tiny compact mirror and makeup kit. Lip stick, mascara and foundation was all she had and it would have to do. They were sitting in the cab and both men watched as she carefully applied makeup to the bruised eye she sported. It vanished beneath skillfully applied makeup and when she was done it could barely been seen even in bright light.

"A lady what?" Sherlock asked and she quirked a brow in his general direction as she replace the kit into her numerous pockets.

"Lady Godiva was a queen who struck a bargain with her husband to lift heavy taxes on the lower classes. He agreed to lift the tariffs if she agreed to ride through the middle of town naked as the day she was born; which she did." Charlie said and Sherlock's eyes widened slightly.

"Pulled her hair down and used it as a cloak of sorts, she covered everything of importance as she rode through… true story." She added at their twin looks.

"You would run naked though London to catch a cab?" John asked and Charlie nodded sarcastically.

"Oh of course John because I seriously have enough hair to cover me don't I?" She said and he smirked.

"I think it must seriously be those gloves…" She said almost to herself.

"Definitely worth experimenting with." Sherlock smirked and she sent him a glare.

"Some of us can't actually afford to be late to work Shirley." She said and he nodded.

"Yes, but if I recall correctly, which I always do, I did say waking earlier helps prevent you from being la…" He began but Charlie merely lifted the lipstick she still held and lunged at him. He had nowhere to go and Charlie tackled him against the seat, covered his lips in a thick layer of the stuff and snapped a picture of his face with her phone. John roared with laughter as Sherlock hurriedly began to wipe the damn stuff off his lips and Charlie sat back with a satisfied smirk.

"If you say 'I told you so' one more time I will send this picture personal to Anderson and Donovan to thank you." She said and Sherlock's eyes widened.

"You wouldn't?" He asked and she gave a look that clearly said 'want to try me?'

"Fine." He said and she smiled. The cab stopped and they got out at Van Coon's address and walked up to the front door. Charlie ran the buzzer and they waited. No one answered.

"So what do we do now?" John asked.

"Sit here and wait for him to come back?"

"Just moved in." Sherlock stated as his eyes flicking to the other labels.

"I beg your pardon?" Came Charlie's lady-like reply. I sound like Mother. Charlie thought and suppressed a shudder.

"Floor above, new label." Sherlock continued and pointed at said label.

"Could have replaced it." John said and Sherlock gave him one of his patented 'Idiot' looks.

"No-one does that." Sherlock muttered and with that he pressed Mrs Wintle's buzzer. They waited.

"Hello?"A female voice asked.

"Hi er... I live in the flat just below you. I-I don't think we've met." Sherlock said, in a completely different voice. Charlie gave him a weird look which he ignored. There was a pause.

"Well actually I've just moved in." Sherlock smiled triumphantly and Charlie shook her head exasperatedly. Damn that man was a good actor.

"Actually...er...I've just locked my keys in my flat." Sherlock continued.

"Do you want me to buzz you in?" Mrs. Wintle said.

"Yes please...and can I use your balcony?" Sherlock asked.

"What?"

Sherlock POV:

In the end they ended up on Mrs. Wintle's balcony. He had to then clambered down into Van Coon's own balcony which was just below it. Charlie followed her petite stature and thin frame helping her ease down. He had begun to open the lock when an intake of breath had him whirling around. She had slipped at the last moment and Sherlock had rushed to catch her. He slipped an arm around her waist and lifted her onto the balcony. As he pulled away he thought he saw a small smirk on her face but dismissed it as shock from falling.

"Thanks." She said and he nodded, slowly removing his arm from around her waist. He was extremely glad John had remained behind, psychosomatic or not apparently his leg still hurt. Sherlock opened the fridge which, in classical rich guy style, was full of champagne. The buzzer went. That would be John.

"Sherlock? Charlie? Could you let me in? Are you okay?" John said. They opened doors, scanning the rooms for human life. There was no one around.

"Any time you two feel like letting me in..." John continued but the two of them ignored it. The searched the house but found nothing until Sherlock came up against a locked door. He banged against it with his shoulder until it burst on its hinges and opened and he stumbled into the room. He stopped suddenly at the sight before him.

"Charlotte." He called and she came up beside him.

One dead banker.

One bullet in his temple.

One gun on the bed.

One possible witness gone.

"Shit! There goes our witness." She said and he nodded. She put a hand into the crook of his elbow.

"I guess we'd better cal the police." She said and they went to open the door for John.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

Charlie POV:

She honestly couldn't believe she was getting herself sucked into another case. The first one had been enough, more than enough really yet here she was staring at another dead body with two men she was beginning to think were more than a bad influence upon each other. The man in question was lying upon the bed, dead as a doornail and all three were at lost as how to now approach the situation.

"Do you think he lost a lot of money? Money loss is a common thing for city boys…" John said and tilted his head to stare at the body.

"We don't know it was suicide." She pointed out and John gave her a look.

"Oh come on, the flat was locked from the inside! You two had to climb in using the balcony!" He pointed out and she blushed, remembering her near fall off said balcony. In search of a new topic she moved over to where Sherlock was now crouched beside an open suitcase.

"Been away three days judging by his laundry..." He said as he looked up at her, she nodded and crouched beside him.

"Overseas." She said and he looked impressed.

"Oh please is it totally inconceivable to the great Sherlock Holmes that someone could actually be smarter than him." She teased and he nodded smugly. She rolled her eyes and stood.

"Look at the case. There was something tightly packed inside it." He said and she took a double look, sure enough the clothes seemed to be bunched tightly to one side; resulting in the conclusion that a medium sized object had been contained within the case.

"Sh…" She began but he beat her to it. He bolted past her so fast she almost got whiplash by simply following him.

"Those symbols at the bank, why were they there?" He asked John as Charlie looked around the apartment, extremely bored. She thought back upon the phone call. Never had a phone call from her mother caused this much distraction; this was the second time in five minutes her attention had been snatched away from the present. She checked her phone… one new voice message.

"Some sort of code?" John suggested.

"Obviously but why were they painted...?" Sherlock pushed.

"Why not use email or something?"

"Because he wouldn't have answered, what sort of message does everyone try to avoid?" Charlie asked ad replaced her phone, unanswered, into her pocket.

Sherlock withdrew a tiny black origami flower from the mouth of the corpse.

"He was being threatened." He sad dramatically and Charlie cracked.

"What!" He asked and she smiled.

"If you ever give up detective work please become an actor." She teased and he looked confused. She waved his confusion away as a man entered the apartment, uniformed to the hilt and a holier-than-thou attitude to match.

"Ah, Sergeant..." Sherlock began, only to be interrupted which cause Charlie to frown. Only she was allowed to interrupt him.

"Yeah, I know who you are and I'd prefer it if you didn't tamper with any of the evidence." The stranger said rudely and Sherlock retreated under his hot gaze.

"I called Lestrade, where is he?" He asked.

"Busy, I'm in charge. And it's not Sargent, its Detective Inspector. Dimmock." The man said smugly and a sound that would have been a snort if it hadn't come from Charlie's ladylike direction. When looks were sent her way the door suddenly became extremely interesting. DI Dimmock scowled and walked out of the room, the three stragglers followed him closely.

"Well we seem to be looking at a suicide." He said and Sherlock sent her a look that clearly told her to let him handle it. She rolled her eyes but let him have control.

"It does seem the only possibly explanation of all of the facts..." John said and she waited.

"Wrong, it's one possible explanation of some of the facts. You've got a solution that you like and you're choosing to ignore anything that doesn't agree with it." Sherlock said petulantly.

"Like?" Prompted Dimmock.

"The wound was on the right side of his head." Sherlock pointed out.

"And?" This inspector was getting almost as annoying as Anderson… almost; its pretty hard to top that man.

"Van Coon was left handed." Charlie said.

"Requires quite a bit of contortion don't you think?" Sherlock demonstrated said contortion and Charlie loved the astounded expression that often appeared on peoples faces after Sherlock pointed things out.

"How did you come to that conclusion?" Dimmock asked.

"All you have to do is look around the flat. Coffee table on the left, pen on the left side of the phone because he picked it up with his right hand and took notes with his left hand, plug sockets – habitually used to ones on the left. Do you want me to go on?" Sherlock asked as he built himself into a little tirade. Charlie felt her phone go off again but ignored it. She would definitely check it later.

"No I don't think you need to..." Said John, only to be cut off again.

"Oh I might as well, chopping board, knife is on the left. It's highly unlikely that a left-handed man would shoot himself in the right side of his head. Conclusion: someone broke in here and murdered him. Only possible explanation of all of the facts." Sherlock finished with a smirk. Dimmock looked unconvinced.

"But the gun?" He asked and she rolled her eyes.

"He was waiting for the killer, he'd been threatened." She explained and the man whirled around to face her.

"What?" He demanded.

"Message at the bank." John explained to him.

"But the bullet?" Dimmock protested.

"Went through the open window." Charlie said and the man snorted.

"What are the chances of..."

"When can you get the ballistics report?" Sherlock interrupted.

"Soon hopefully we're sending the body to St. Bart's. I've heard good things about the forensics there. Anyway if the door was locked from the inside, how did the killer get in and out?" Dimmock said and Charlie smiled.

"Good, you're finally asking the right questions." Sherlock answered.

"I believe I see Death upon his white steed approaching." She teased and John sniggered. She smiled at him appreciatively.

"I'm sorry but who are you?" Dimmock demanded and she extended a hand.

"Dr. Charlotte Myers, criminal psychologist and forensic anthropologist of St. Bartholomew's hospital."

He froze and did not extend his own so with an uncomfortable expression withdrew hers as Sherlock's voice came from behind her.

"Come on Charlotte!"

She turned and without a backwards glance, followed her flatmates from the crime scene.

Sherlock POV:

Sebastian was sitting at the table, surrounded by men who reminded Sherlock strongly of the students he had associated himself with during college. He perversely looked forward to interrupting this little tete tete. He marched boldly till he was stationed behind him. 3… 2…1…

"It was a threat, that's what the graffiti meant." He satated sharply and smrked as the man spilt the drink in shock.

"Look I'm kind of in a meeting here so could this wait?" He asked and Sherlock's smirk broadened.

"Er, let me think about that...no." He said.

"One of your bankers, a man who works in your office, was killed earlier today."

"What?" Sebastian actually looked shocked which was promising but not altogether hope raising.

"Van Coon" John said.

"The police are in his flat."

"Still want to make an appointment?" Sherlock asked

"Would nine o'clock at Scotland Yard suit?" With a sigh the man stood and the three men trooped into the bathroom, Charlie smiling and waving off the apologies John offered. Very odd. He fixed her with a look bu she ignored him and pulled out her phone as she leant against the opposite wall.

"He was a bright guy...Oxford..." Sebastian said as he washed his hands.

"You gave him the Hong Kong accounts?" Serlock asked and he nodded.

"Lost 5 million one week, made it back a week later. We all make enemies you know." Sebastian explained and John rolled is eyes.

"You don't all end up with a bullet through your temple." He muttered.

"Police are telling us it's a suicide." Sebastian pointed out and Sherlock snorted, deeply offended at the reference.

"They're wrong." He said simply.

"Well my boss doesn't think so. I hired you to do a job, do it." Sebastian demanded and stalked out of the room. Sherlock sent ohn a look which clearly said he was not impressed, the ex-military man merely shrugged good naturedly. They exited the room to find Charlotte deep in conversation on her phone.

"No… no I can't. I'm sorry but… no I understand. Alright Mother I call later." She said and hung up. His interest was perked. Since when did Charlotte want to talk to her mother? John missed the connection and joked as he walked up to her.

"And there I was thinking that all bankers were supposed to be heartless bastards." He said and she smiled.

"I take it he wasn't helpful then." She said and the both shook their heads. She smirked up at them and hooked her arms through theirs. Sherlock felt extremely hot at the contact, every finger was clearly felt even through the multiple layers he had wrapped around his figure. They left the restaurant and caught a taxi home, Charlie falling asleep on Sherlock's shoulder. He noticed her eye was slightly swollen; a momento he had repaid to the bastard who'd given it to her. If he had been quicker…

He shook her awake as they pulled up and the trio trooped into the lounge room, John whispering a goodnight and trying to catch a few hours sleep before his job interview at a nearby practice. Charlotte collapsed on the couch and produced her phone. She held it to her ear and listened to the voice messages, a strange look over her face as she did so. When that was done she curled up on the couch and stared at him.

"Do you think family's important Sherlock?" She asked after about two whole minutes of silence and he tilted his head inquisitively.

"Not really no, they can be useful. My brother's connections can make it easier for some of my cases and vice versa however we do not extend much affection or loyalty to each other however much Mycroft insists otherwise… it is no our way." He said and she nodded thoughtfully. She swallowed and seemed to ponder a painful answer. "If I said I needed to leave London for a few days… you wouldn't mind would you?" She asked and the violin he had been plucking idly made a horrid note as his fingers slipped. She looked over at him and he was captivated by her green eyes shinning from behind the growing red locks. Leave? He hadn't done anything too bad lately had he?

"Why would you be leaving?" He asked and she shrugged.

"Stuff." She said and rolled to stand.

"I've got work tomorrow and probably a mortician to sweet talk into five minutes with a cadaver." She said and he saluted her out of the room. He stayed awake all night playing his violin and thinking. Why leave, why now? He looked over at her phone which was still lying on the couch. Of all the people in the world he had to room with the only one he could not read. Did he dare listen to those voice messages? Had she left it behind to test him? It seemed like something she would do but to what end. The case. He reminded himself. Focus on the case. His fingers began to pluck he strings rapidly as thoughts whirled through his head like a snow storm. Symbols, threats, dead bankers what on earth could link these things? He honestly had no idea.

Charlie POV:

Charlie sighed as she entered the flat, closing the door with her foot as she hung her coat on the rack and wandered up the stairs. Work had been a bitch… Thalia had been on her back about the "Sherlock situation" as she called it and the paper work seemed to pile up over night. She saw that Sherlock was sitting still as a statue on his back on the couch, the fingertips touching lightly as if in prayer.

"I asked John to pass me a pen. About an hour ago. Where is he?" The insolent man asked and she resisted throwing something at him.

"He's at his job interview. Didn't you notice that he'd gone out?" She replied without tossing him the pen.

"Uh, dull." He said and sat up to look at her.

"Pen." He said pointedly.

"Get it yourself." She said and sat down with a small sniff.

"It's necessary." She replied as John came in with a dreamy smile on his face.

"Oh hi John, any luck?" Sherlock said as he lay back down still staring at her. She ignored him and busied herself with her new book.

John smiled and nodded.

"I went to see about that job at the surgery." He said.

"And...?" She prompted as she flicked a page. She'd read "The Mill of the Floss" by George Eliot many times but it was a nice change from lighthearted romance crap she'd been subjected too from Thalia.

"It was great, she was great..." He ruffled his hair in the mirror as Charlie smirked smelling a victory.

"Who?" She asked.

"The job!" He replied a little too quickly she and Sherlock shared a joyous look.

"You said she." Sherlock pointed out and Charlie nodded.

"I said it." He argued. Charlie rolled her eyes and setting her book aside, nodded her head towards the open laptop in front of her.

"What's that?" She asked Sherlock.

"'The intruder who can walk through walls?" She continued and he nodded.

"Happened this morning." Sherlock said, a little too happily.

"Doors locked, windows bolted from the inside – exactly like Van Coon."

"Good God...you think..." John stuttered and Sherlock smiled.

"He's killed another one." Charlie said with a sigh. She honestly wasn't really up for it right now. She had to pack.

"Scotland Yard?" She asked and Sherlock stood.

"Scotland Yard." He said.

Some time later Charlie and John stood by while Sherlock explained to DI Dimmock, about the similarities between the two murders, waving a copy of the ballistics report (which Charlie had managed to photocopy during her time at work that morning) in front of his face. It wasn't technically stealing, they weren't going to use it for illicit purposes and she had every right to photocopy articles of evidence included in her "psych" reports.

"Five minutes… just five minutes in his flat is all I'm asking." Sherlock was saying when something caught her eye.

"Francis?" She whispered and Dimmock looked over at her.

"I beg your pardon." He asked and she looked up at him from the picture she had been studying. It showed a young man of about 30 or so who had light brown hair and vibrant green eyes. The notice was stuck to a board with arrows, photographs and evidence littered all around it. Charlie felt her stomach drop at the sight. She looked up at Dimmock and smiled.

"I'm sorry, must have been thinking aloud… tend to do that." She said and Sherlock looked at her like a second head had sprouted from her shoulders and begun to speak. She hoped he'd drop it and thankfully he did.

"Fine, five minutes." Dimmock muttered to Sherlock and the three of them left Scotland Yard, Charlie throwing worried glances at the evidence board. Sherlock stared at her as they drove away in the cab.

"Why…"

"Stay out of it Sherlock… trust me when I say you do not want to get involved." She said and ignored the both of them for the rest of the trip.

**OHHHHH what's going on with Charlotte's family? Is I sinister or something else? Sorry I haven't updated been hectic these last few weeks but thanks to everyone who's still reading this. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

Charlie POV:

The apartment of the dead man was cluttered with all sorts of mess and Charlie, who had been living with two of the best offenders of all bachelor kind, was impressed at the level of mess the victim had managed to achieve at the time of his unfortunate end. There was a black, origami flower on the floor, much like the one pulled out of Van Coons mouth, and both detective and profiler looked at each other with satisfied smirks at the discovery. Definitely a serial killer then. Sherlock walked to the window and looked down. Turning back his eyes were lit up in a look that Charlie had dubbed his 'I'm-onto-something' look.

"Four floors up, that's why they think they're safe! Lock the door from the inside and they think they're impregnable. They don't reckon for one second that there's another way in!"

And he was off like a shot. Charlie smiled as she watched her friend begin yet another tangent, honestly the poor bloke had to get sick of explaining himself over and over again to the idiots of the world some time right?

"What?" Asked Dimmock.

"We're looking for a killer who can climb! He climbs the walls like an insect and he ran along the ceiling, dropping in through this sky light!"

"You've got to be kidding me? Like spider man?" Dimmock said disbelievingly as Charlie and John shared similar resigned looks.

"He scaled six floors of an apartment building and jumped the balcony to kill Van Coon..." She said pointedly.

"Now hold on!" The detective inspector shouted.

"And of course, that's how he got into the bank! He ran along the ledge and jumped on to the terrace! That's what you were doing hanging out of the window Sherlock!" She said exasperatedly as the sociopathic consulting detective nodded seriously. He picked up a book on the staircase, opened it and ran down the stairs closely followed by his two companions who caught him up just as he was hailing a taxi. Charlie was seriously beginning to worry about her decision to come to London, working at St. Barts wasn't the wealthiest occupation and if she wasn't careful she was going to spend her paychecks on bloody cab fares rather than adding to her extensive book collection.

They drew up to West Kensington Library and followed Sherlock – who was still holding the library book that he had 'borrowed' from the flat of the latest victim's flat. They moved through the rows of shelves, Charlie pausing every now and again when a large tome caught her eye. Sherlock was muttering to himself, clearly searching for something.

"The date in the book is the same date of the day he died..." He muttered, as he looked along the shelves for a book with a similar to the one in his hand. Nodding his two companions began to search shelves nearby. Nothing overly interesting, Asian antiquities and the like.

"Sherlock." John called and they rushed over to see what he was looking at. Behind the books, painted onto the shelf using the same yellow spray paint as the ones on the painting at the bank, were the two squiggles. Obviously they were more than squiggles, being identical to the once aforementioned, however as they stared at the spray painted marks all three had identical looks of confusion on their faces.

"Damn." Charlie whispered and Sherlock nodded. They turned and left the library, calling a cab and heading back to Baker Street with all speed. A few hours later, curtesy of Sherlock and Charlie's extensive internet and library database, the three of them were perched on chairs staring with interest at the enormous montage of pictures, articles and photocopied evidence that Sherlock had pinned painstakingly to the wall with varying pins and kitchen knives. Charlie was interested to see how he would get out of this one with her aunt and smiled at the mental picture of Sherlock fleeing down Baker Street her aunt on his heels.

"So the killer goes to the bank, leaves a threatening message for Van Coon, Van Coon panics and runs back to his apartment, locks himself in, hours later he dies." She said.

"Lucas goes to the library where the killer has left it on the shelf where he knows it will be seen, Lucas goes home..." Sherlock continues and she nodded.

"And that night he dies too." John finished tersely, frowning slightly at the photographs.

"Why did they die Sherlock?" He asked and for once the great detective was stumped.

"Only the cipher can tell us. Shall we go for a walk?" He suggested and his two flatmates shared looks of confusion. They sighed but followed him nonetheless. As they were walking out of the door her aunt came bustling into the hallway. She looked extremely upset.

"Oh Charlie, they can't find him… what if he's…" She began and Charlie interrupted.

"I'm sure he's fine Em, he's always been quick on his feet… I promise I'll look into it as soon as I've done this okay. Let's just forget about alright?" She said quickly and gave her aunt a quick kiss on the cheek before heading out of the door.

"Shit Francis shit!" She whispered and pulled out her phone. She typed in a number and held her breath. It rang out and she waved the men onwards as she heard the dial tone.

"France it's Charlie, please when you hear this give me a call. I don't like what I've been hearing about you and Mom's been a right pain so please… if your in trouble I can help okay. I've got good connections now and… just call me okay?" She said after the little beep came and hung up with a sigh. She turned to smile at the guys who were waiting for her on the curb.

"So where are we going?" John asked.

"I need to ask for some advice." Sherlock said easily and Charlie's jaw dropped.

"Oh John please tell me you just heard that too? Sherlock needs help! My god it's the apocalypse, death upon his pale horse hath come." She teased and Sherlock shoved her lightly. He rolled his eyes as John began to chuckle.

"So _you_ need advice?" John asked as straight-faced as he could manage.

"On painting yes, I need to talk to an expert." Sherlock said and they were off. They followed him around the corner to where a twenty-something year old man was spray painting a policeman onto the side door of the museum. He was younger than Charlie by a few years but obviously still had light years of maturing to go.

"Part of my new exhibition." He called out to them as they approached.

"Interesting." Sherlock said boredly making the painter paused to look over to the group.

"Call it 'Urban Bloodlust Frenzy'." He smirked and his eyes fell on Charlie. They widened slightly and an impressed look fell over his face.

"Nice." She said sarcastically and he bowed.

"I've got two minutes before a community support officer comes around that corner, you really want to do this while I'm working?" He asked rudely, turning back to his working and ignoring them.

"Well we're a bit pushed for time..." Charlie said quietly and, ran a hand over his cheek softly. His eyes widened a fraction of an inch and he smiled lop-sidedly.

"For you love I can spare a few seconds." He said gallantly and she smiled. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Sherlock hold out the picture he had taken of the graffiti, his back rigid as an iron poker and what was probably the closest thing to a furious expression a sociopath could manage. The man handed his bag to John and she quickly stepped away from the younger man.

"Know the author?" Sherlock asked and the kid took a look.

"Recognise the paint, it's like Michigan, hard-core propellant. I'd say zinc." He said expertly as he took the picture.

"Do you recognise the symbols?" Sherlock prodded and the man shook his head.

"Not even sure it's a proper language."

"Two men are dead Raz and this could help find the killer." Sherlock said stiffly and Charlie could tell he was still angry at something. Surely it wasn't because she had been fake flirting… no this was Sherlock what did he care? Must have lost his eyeballs or something. The guy raised his pierced eyebrows.

"What and this is all you got to go on? Hardly much now is it?" Raz said mockingly and Sherlock's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Are you going to help us or not?" He demanded and the guy nodedd.

"I'll ask around." He said and Sherlock nodded gratefully.

"OI!" Came a shout from around the corner. The officer appeared and Charlie, noticing that Sherlock and his mate had already packed in, grabbed John and dragged him away as the community officer began to chase after them. They managed to escape due to Sherlock's unparalleled knowledge of backstreet London. When they stopped Raz smirked at Charlie as they leaned against a grimy alley wall to catch their breaths.

"I like a woman who's fast on her feet..." He flirted and she shrugged, already bored with him. John shoved his bag back into his hands with a little more force than was necessary, obviously annoyed of what could have happened if he had been caught with it.

"Yes thank you Raz." Sherlock growled, grabbed Charlie's arm more gently than it looked and pulled her away as they headed back to the flat.

"You're quite the lucky one John, they probably would have given you an ASBO for just holding that bag." Charlie said as the three of them headed out into the street and hailed yet another cab.

Sherlock POV:

"Francis is your brother isn't he?" Sherlock asked and Charlie looked up at his from across the cab seat and her face clearly told him she was beginning to wish she'd gone with John. Without John's moral compass to hold him back Sherlock could now use the time to interrogate her thoroughly… his curiousity had been perked when his background checks had turned out some interesting results.

"Yes, he's two years older than I am and I don't see him much though." She said shortly and he smirked.

"And why would that be? Generally adopted siblings tend to stay close to each other during their adult lives, a habit usually picked up during childhood." Sherlock said knowingly and Charlie narrowed her eyes at him.

"He and I have differing views on life. We decided years ago it would be in our best interests to stay away from each other from now on." She said and turned to look out the window.

"There's the occasional phone call and email however… it's just not what we do." She said stiffly and flicked an irritating piece of red hair out of her eyes.

"Is that why you and your mother argue?" Sherlock asked and recoiled the slightest bit at the gaze she sent him.

"Okay Sherlock let's get one little thing straight; what I've done, who've I been and the people in my past are none of your business. I finished with that life years ago and that's that… dig around all you want but you are never going to find what you are looking for." She said angrily and with a furious sigh turned once more to face the window. The cab pulled over and Sherlock got out, holding the door open for her and following her into the bank. They reached Van Coon's office and Charlie managed to get his receptionist to find some of his paperwork for them to study.

"He flew back from Deli on Friday...looks like he had back to back meetings with the sales team." She said as she handed them to her and Charlie thanked her.

"Can you bring me up a copy?" She asked.

"Sure..." The woman said and went off to do so.

"What about the day he died?" Charlie asked as she gazed around the office.

"There's a bit of a gap there I'm afraid...I have his receipts?" She said, retrieving said receipts as the pair of them frowned down at them. Now for the fun bit of sifting through the large pile while Sherlock asked questions, his favourite hobby.

"Was he an appreciative boss?" Sherlock asked. The woman shook her head and Charlie paused in her sorting.

"The only thing he appreciated was a big price tag."

"Like that hand cream?" Charlie pointed at the bottle on the desk.

"He bought that for you didn't he?"

The woman started and twitched uncomfortably as Sherlock placed the receipts from the taxi and the tube in order. Charlie came to stand behind him and her phone rang again. God that phone was always ringing, maybe she should switch it off? He dismissed it and turned back to the pile of receipts.

Charlie POV:

"Hello?"

"Ah Miss Myers or should I say Miss X?" The annoyingly superior tone of Mycroft Holmes sounded in her ear and she sighed. Her day was getting better and better.

"Well hello to you too Mr. Holmes." She said mockingly and he tutted.

"Now don't be like that… all I want to say is that I'm so very sorry about your brother tut tut, such an unfortunate thing really." He said and Charlie felt her breath leave her.

"What do you mean?" She asked and Mycroft sighed.

"I regret to inform you my dear but he has… gone now how to put this… in cognito and this is not something I'm very familiar with." Mycroft said and his voice took on a more sinister tone.

"Now see here, I know what your little family had been involved with… it's my job and should Sherlock catch wind of this little chat it would be unfortunate for certain files to become public knowledge… good bye Miss Myers." The phone went dead and Charlie swallowed as she tried to focus on Sherlock's rabbles.

"Why would he get a taxi there and the tube back?" Asked the blonde receptionist, twirling her necklace nervously as she watched.

"He was carrying something heavy..." Sherlock said shortly.

"He was delivering something...to someone near Picaddilly...then..."

"He stopped for lunch." And they were off again, leaving a very confused receptionist in their wake as they hailed another taxi.

Charlie walked alongside Sherlock who, rather disconcertingly, was talking to himself. He was walking backwards and she saw John walking up to them, reading a diary. She was still in shock from Mycroft' surprise call and didn't call out until it was too late.

"Sherlock..." She began as her two flatmates collided simultaneously. She laughed softly at their faces, clutching on to Sherlock's shoulder to support herself.

"Very funny Charlotte...anyway, John..." Sherlock asked as he launched into full scale rambling mode with John constantly trying to get his attention.

"I've managed to put together a picture using scraps of information..."

"Sherlock?" John tried and Charlie shot him a sympathetic look.

"… Using credit card bills and receipts...he flew back from China and then he came here..."

"Sherlock." John tried again and Charlie actually rolled her eyes now.

"… He was here, somewhere in this street but I don't know where..."

"SHERLOCK!" Charlie yelled, effectively breaking him out of his trance and causing an elderly man in the café to her left to spill his coffee down his jumper in surprise.

"John's trying to tell you something now shut up and let him have a go."

Sherlock sighed.

"Yes John?"

"He was in that shop, over there." He pointed to 'The Lucky Cat Emporium' and Charlie smiled.

"I love cats, I had one when I was a teenager."

"How could you tell?" Sherlock asked ignoring her.

"Lucas' diary, he was here too. Wrote down the address." John said and showed the entry. They wandered into the shop, a tiny bell ringing as they walked inside.

"You want lucky cat?" An elderly Chinese woman asked Charlie as she surveyed the shop.

"No thank you." She said politely.

"Good for love life!" The woman continued and Charlie snorted. John shot her an amused glance.

"What love life?" She questioned lowly and even Sherlock glanced at her.

"You seem to be fine in attracting male attention Charlotte." He said stiffly and she gaped at him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked and he backtracked slightly.

"Never mind, just keep looking." She rolled her eyes but continued her search. After a few minutes of searching John called them over, gesturing to a price tag.

"That label there is exactly the same as the cipher." Sherlock's expression turned into one of complete understanding. They left the shop and began to walk down the road. Charlie thrust her hands into her pockets. It was absolutely freezing outside and her slim fingers had never been able to provide enough warmth to make her comfortable.

"It's an ancient Chinese dialect, hangzhou, these days only street traders use it."

"So they were numbers?" She asked.

"In the bank and the library?"

"It's a fifteen..." John said.

"The line was a number too John, the number one."

John's stomach growled and Sherlock allowed them to eat. They sat in a small café, John ate but Charlie, whose stomach still twisted with discontent couldn't manage anything and Sherlock merely looked out of the window in boredom.

"So two men travel back from China, both head straight for the Lucky Cat Emporium. What did they see in that shop?"

"It's not what they saw, it's what they both brought back in those suitcases." Sherlock said and Charlie caught on.

"I take it," She said.

"That you don't mean duty free?"

"Remember what Sebastian said? He lost 5 million one week..." Sherlock said pointedly and she nodded.

"Made it back a week later!"

"That's it! He was a smuggler!" She exclaimed and John looked up from his meal.

"Lucky Cat was their drop off." He said and they nodded.

"So why," Said John,

"Did they die? Why would they finish the job and then have someone threaten and kill them?"

"They must have stolen something. It's the only explanation." Charlie said and nodded, she was in full criminologist mode now, a thousand murder motives running through her mind behind her vibrant green eyes.

"The killer doesn't know which one of them took it so he went after both of them." He said and Charlie smiled at him, all prior anger forgotten. Sherlock returned it briefly before looking out of the window

"Remind me, when was the last time that it rained?" He said vaguely and then he was off again.

Sherlock POV:

By the time they had paid and made it out of the café, Sherlock was examining a copy of the Yellow Pages. He looked over at them and rolled his eyes.

"It's been here since Monday." He said and watched them nod. He stood and rang the buzzer of the flat in front of them. There was no answer and so he took off down the alleyway beside it, his flatmates hot on his heels. Okay so it wasn't strictly legal however they needed to get in that flat.

"No one's been in that flat for at least three days." He said to his companions and John, always the complainer, piped up.

"Could have gone on holiday?" He suggested as he pulled his coat tighter around his body. Charlie also looked cold and… nervous? Of what? He'd ask her later. Sherlock looked up and spotted the open window of the flat, bingo!

"They've left their windows open." John said and he gave him an expression that clearly told John he was an idiot. Taking a step back Sherlock leapt up and pulled down the fire escape with a squeal that resembled that made by nails on a chalk board before climbing up. Charlie watched and sighed, turning to John.

"I'll make sure he stays out of trouble shall I?"

"No, Charlotte I want you to stay out there." Sherlock said and Charlotte sighed.

"Now I have to come." She teased from bellow and he turned to berate her. For some reason he really did not want her up here.

"Stay put Charlotte." Sherlock shouted but she ignored him, moving to climb the stairs but not entering the apartment.

"Just stay there then, if you're not going to listen to me." He said and she nodded. He climbed through the window and knocking over a vase in the process, catching it smartly and setting it upright. Charlie smirked and he tried his best to ignore her.

"That was graceful." She commented and he waved her away, he turned and examined the carpet.

"Someone's already been here, knocked over the vase just like I did." He said softly and moved further into the apartment to pull some clothing out if the drier and sniffed it before chucking it over his shoulder. The buzzer went from downstairs but he ignored it. There was something not right about this apartment.

"Do you think that maybe you two could let me in?" John called from outside but neither moved. He opened the fridge and sniffed a bottle of milk found inside cautiously, handing it to Charlotte who then proceeded to throw it into one of the bins in the alleyway. John spoke through the letter box.

"Can you not keep doing this please?" He demanded butt they were so thoroughly absorbed in their findings that they continued to ignore him.

"I'm not the first!" Sherlock called to John.

"What?" Came the muffled answer.

"Somebody's been in here before me! Size eight feet, small but athletic." He continued and disappeared into one of the other rooms. John rang the buzzer again and Sherlock sighed as he heard Charlotte finally enter the apartment.

"They had small hands, small but strong. Our acrobat maybe?" He continued on.

"But why didn't he close the window when he left?" He asked to no one in particular. Realisation flooded his mind and he began to turn.

"Of course! Stupid! Obvious! He's still..." A crushing pressure closed around his throat and he choked as the scarf was pulled tighter and tighter around his neck.

**So here it is. Sorry it took so long but I jut didn't have as much time as I would have liked. Reviews please! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Four**

Charlie POV:

She heard the sound of struggling in the other room and Sherlock's voice being cut off. Without thought she launched herself into the room and in a rugby tackle that would have made her father feel proud flung herself into Sherlock's assailant without a sound. The three of them fell to the ground and Charlie was the second to regain her feet after the attacker. He however didn't want to stick around and was soon gone, having disappeared through the open window and into the rooftops of London. She held out her hand to Sherlock who took it with a raspy thank you.

"Hold still." She said and careful moved his head and neck this way and that, checking to see if it was damaged in any way.

"That's not…" Sherlock began but she shut him up with a harsh glare. "Shut up and tell me if anything hurts." She demanded although she knew he probably wouldn't tell her anything even if he had a hangman's fracture. He stood still and allowed her the gently test his neck. She felt a tingle of warmth stretch through her fingertips as she maneuvered the now bruising flesh and anger welled inside her at what this man had done. After completing her check with satisfactory results she nodded and stepped away awkwardly. The two of them stood there in silence until John's voice called in from outside. Sherlock ran to the door and stepped outside.

"Milks gone off. Someone left here in a hurry three days ago." He said to join as Charlie pulled the door closed behind her and nodded.

"We have to find Soo Lin Yao." Sherlock muttered and John quirked a brow.

"We'll start with this." Charlie said and showed him the piece of paper she had salvaged from the floor of the apartment. Sherlock snatched it from her and looked over it.

"Great." He whispered and John looked amused.

"Sherlock are you alright you sound as if your coming down with a cold." He asked and Sherlock merely waved him off.

"I'm fine." He held up a hand and like always a taxi just materialized right beside them.

Sherlock POV:

"When was the last time you saw her?" He asked the young archeologist.

"Three days ago, here at the museum. This morning they told me she'd just resigned. Just like that, leaving her work unfinished." He said raspishly, feeling the tickle in his throat flare up again. He noticed that Charlie being annoying perceptive as ever stepped forward and took over the interview. He would have to thank her later, wait what!

"What was the last thing that she did on her final afternoon?" She asked and the young man became rather flustered at the female attention. However obviously it had its perks because they were soon shown to a line of locker-style containers. Archives by the looks of things.

"She does a demonstration for the tourists, some kind of traditional tea ceremony. So she would have packed up her things and..." His voice faded out as Sherlock's eyes zeroed in on the familiar graffiti on a nearby statue.

"Sherlock?" Charlie rasped.

"The statue."

"Well done Charlotte extremely perceptive of you." He said snarkily and she looked affronted. With a sniff she walked over to it for a more decent look. The others followed close behind and soon everyone was aware of the interesting state of the statue she had pointed at. The graffiti was two yellow, spray-painted numbers. More specifically, Chinese numbers. He looked over at Charlie but she was now peering closely at her phone which had buzzed in her pocket. Her face creased into a look he could only describe as undecided.

"Is it urgent?" He asked and she it her lip.

"Hard to know but I'll focus on this first." She said and the three of them left the basement, traveled through the sunlit museum and out the front doors.

"We have to get to Soo Lin Yao." Sherlock stated as he pulled his two companions out of the museum. Charlie nearly fell as he yanked her quickly down the stairs and it was only because of John that stopped her from smashing her face in on the marble steps.

"Thanks for that." She muttered and he flashed her an apologetic look. Her eyebrows rose and she smiled. He really needed to work on his relationship with this woman; she had turned out to be the only one of her gender he could stand being around and he treated her like crap. Where the hell was al this feeling stuff coming from? Maybe he needed a check up or something, then he remembered why he didn't trust doctors and smirked to himself. John would never be the same if he knew.

"If he's still alive that is." John said, ever the optimist. The thumping of approaching feet could be heard.

"Sherlock!" A familiar voice called from behind them and the three of them whirled around.

"Oh, look who it is, my secret admirer." Charlie said and John smirked. He felt a tightening in his stomach that he couldn't explain and paused as Raz ran up to them, panting slightly.

"Found something you'll like." He spoke, winking at Charlie. Sherlock found his grip on her arm tightening slightly. She flashed him a grimace before they followed Raz into what appeared to be a car park/ skate park in which at least five or six teens on BMXs were doing tricks and yelling things like 'Dude! That was Rad! He didn't really know what the word rad mean but apparently these kids were doing it. The next thing that caught his attention was the state of the concrete surfaces around them. The walls were absolutely plastered with rather impressive looking graffiti. It was everywhere and to his surprise he actually liked it, gave the place a little character

"If you wanted to hide a tree, the best place would be in a forest don't you think? Most people would just walk straight past it, not knowing and unable to decipher the message." Charlie said and Sherlock nodded.

"There." Raz said and pointed to a set of yellow squiggles against one of the walls.

"Spotted it earlier today."

Charlie peered at it. She shook her head.

"We'll need more evidence to decipher the message." She said and they nodded. Sherlock, John and Charlie set off in different directions, trying to find more messages. On train tracks not far from the skate park a paint can was found, the same shade of yellow as the graffiti. He doubted prints would be traceable but it was worth a shot. He walked back to where Charlie was staring at paint splatters on the floor just as John ran up to them.

"Answer your phones! I've been calling you!" He yelled and they shared an amused glance as he spoke again.

"I've found it." The smirks disappeared and they ran after John, back towards the railway tracks. He stopped before...a blank wall.

"Well that's certainly impressive." Charlie drawled, massaging her temples.

"It's been painted over, I don't understand! It was here not ten minutes ago!" John explained and he watched as she placed a hand on his shoulder to signify she understood.

"Someone doesn't want me to see it." Sherlock muttered before grasping John and drilling him on the faulty accuracy of visual memory while dancing round in a strange circle all the while John emitting cries of 'Sherlock, what are you doing?' while Charlie's eyeballs burned into the back of his head in mystified interest.

"Are you sure you can remember all of it?" Sherlock demanded.

"Yes, well I would be if I could get to my pocket, I took a photograph." He removed said phone from said pocket and showed them both the picture of the wall. Sherlock felt the tiniest bit annoyed but covered it by snatching the phone away and peering at the picture.

"Back to the lab Igor." Charlie whispered to John and Sherlock shot her an unimpressed look.

In less than an hour Sherlock and Charlie had pinned all the pictures involving the case to the wall with a vast variety of objects such as knives, blobs of blue tack and some drawing pins from Mrs. Hudson's sewing box, not to mention the ones already held up by miscellaneous cutlery.

"It's very post-modern, I believe it really adds character to the room." Charlie announced as the two of hem stepped back and stared at their work with almost silent appreciation. Sherlock snorted.

"When I was twelve I made a thought wall that would have stretched along the entire corridor downstairs, Mother threw an absolute fit." He said and out of the corner of his eye saw her lips twitch in amusement. Score 1 for the consulting detective.

"I don't think I ever made thought walls but I had albums filled with newspaper clippings, 'borrowed' police reports, photos ect." She said and he frowned.

"Couldn't think of a worse way to think." He said and she hummed in contemplation.

"I suppose but I never didn't solve a case, until I stopped." She said and he admitted defeat.

"Fine, do you still have the albums." He asked and she nodded.

"There with my Mum, I'll get her to send them soon. She always hated me doing that stuff, Francis did a lot of covering for me during high school." She said and a small smile spread over her face, then disappeared. She completely shut down on him and wouldn't say another word.

Charlie POV:

"You know what we need? Coffee." She said and walked into the kitchen. She made a very large cup of coffee for her and John (who was in the process of falling asleep into his). Luckily, she was capable of all-nighters due to the intensity of studying for two degrees which often resulted in her severe lack of sleep due to nights of relentless and meticulous study necessary to do well enough to convince people at home she could do this. It was now around half past six in the morning and she hadn't slept in over 24 hours. Thalia had told her that her attendance record was one of the most spotless so it didn't matter if she missed one or two days in the three years she been working at ST. Bart's, so Charlie decided not to go to work until the night after. This case was far more interesting.

"They're always in pairs." She noted, swirling the contents of her mug around and smirking when John gave a start.

"Oh I need to sleep..." He mumbled and she clucked sympathetically.

"Why paint them so near the tracks?" Sherlock wondered aloud.

"No idea." A sleep deprived John muttered darkly.

"Hundreds of people pass by there every day. Maybe he knows someone who does just that...maybe he's trying to contact his people in the underworld?" Charlie offered, prodding John awake again. Honestly the guy needed to go to bed, he just wasn't up for this anymore.

"Whatever was stolen, he wants it back. It's here, in the code...we can't crack this without Soo Lin Yao." Sherlock said, scooping up his coat again and leading them out of the flat.

"Two men who traveled back from China were killed. And their killer left them messages in hangzhou numerals." Sherlock spoke to the museum worker again.

"That cipher, the one on the statue, was exactly the same as the others. He means to kill her as well." Charlie explained, rubbing her eyes as the man looked startled.

"Look, I've tried everywhere. Friends, colleagues, I don't know where she's gone. I mean, she could be a thousand miles away...what are you looking at?" He asked. Charlie followed Sherlock's line of sight to the brown teapots in the display cabinet.

"Tell me about those teapots." Sherlock asked.

"The pots were her obsession. They need urgent work, if the clay dried it can crumble. Apparently you have to just keep making tea in them." He said and suddenly Charlie noticed something.

"Hey, wasn't only one of those shiny yesterday?" She asked.

"And now there are two." Sherlock said by way of answer. They spent the day chasing up leads, wandering around the museum and looking for more of the distinctive yellow graffiti. By nightfall they were all well and truly knackered – well, except Sherlock. Charlie was more than a little tired and after about five or ten coffees during the course of the day felt that a caffeine apocalypse was well in order. She fared better than John however who looked as though he was ready to pass out through lack of sleep. When she had pinched her cheeks a little and added a bit more makeup to the corpselike complexion she consisted of Charlie managed to convince the museum worker to let them into the museum after hours to search for Soo Lin's hiding place. They waited in the shadows by the teapots until she entered the room silently, taking a pot out of its case and beginning to prepare tea.

"Fancy a biscuit with that?" Sherlock asked, catching the pot before it hit the ground. His two companions melted into view behind him and Soo Lin's eyes widened. Charlie could almost felt the woman's terror as she gazed at them.

"That's centuries old, don't want to break that." Sherlock continued and gently placed the teapot back on it's resting place.

"Hello Soo Lin, I'm Charlotte Myer's we're investigating those well… messages you seemed to have found yourself seeing." Charlie said and extended a hand to the terrified woman, who although still frightened extended her own to shake hands.

"You saw the cipher." She stated.

"You know he is coming for me."

"You've been clever to avoid him so far." Sherlock said.

"I had to finish… to finish this work. It's only a matter of time but I know he will find me." She said as John lowered himself into a chair.

"Who is he? Have you met him before?" He asked and she nodded.

"When I was a girl. I recognised his...signature." Soo Lin said heavily.

"The cipher." Sherlock ventured and Charlie sat down next to Soo Lin.

"Only he would do this." She said. For some reason she went on to call him 'The Spider' in Chinese. Charlie had a distinct feeling that there was a very good reason for this. Soo Lin untied her shoe, showing them a tattoo on her foot, a black flower. Like the origami flowers they had been finding all over London.

"You know this symbol?" She asked and Charlie felt a pull on her extensive memory bank. At Sherlock's look she nodded.

"Isn't that the symbol of an ancient crime syndicate in China?" He asked and Soo Lin grimaced.

"Every foot soldier bears the mark, everyone who hauls for them."

"You were a smuggler?" John asked and she nodded.

"When I was fifteen my parents were dead. I had no livelihood, no way of surviving. Except to work for the bosses." She said sadly.

"Who were they?" Sherlock pressed and Charlie spoke instead.

"They were called The Black Lotus." She said and Soo Lin looked starled but nodded.

"By the time I was sixteen, I was taking thousands of pounds worth of drugs across the border into Hong Kong. I managed to leave that life behind me, I came to England. They gave me a job here, everything was good. New life." She said but there was a tinge of sadness in her voice.

"And then they came looking for you." Charlie said gently and Soo Lin nodded.

"Yes, I had hoped that after five years, maybe they would have forgotten me. But they never really let you leave. He came to my flat, he asked me to help him to track down something that was stolen. I refused to help." She said and her voice quavered.

"So you knew him well? When you were back in China?" Charlie said and the woman nodded sadly.

"Oh yes. He is my brother. He has become their puppet. In the power of the Black Lotus general. I turned my brother away. He said I had betrayed him. The next day I came to work and the cipher was waiting." She said and after a moment they flattened a photo out on the table.

"Can you decipher this? The code?" Sherlock said and she smiled.

"All the smugglers know it. It is based on a book." She said just as the lights went out and John's overly-exhausted voice could be heard stating 'Oh bloody hell. That's all we need.'.

"John." Sherlock said tiredly and the place fell silent.

"He is here." Soo Lin said and the terror was back. Sherlock grabbed Charlie and dragged her towards the door.

"He has found me."

Sherlock continued to tow Charlie around and pulled her out of the room. He gestured to the two corridors.

"You check down there, I'll go this way." He said and she sighed. Really this night was getting better and better. John could be seen hiding Soo Lin as Charlie nodded and set off into the left wing of the museum. She stopped and whirled around at the sound of gunshots behind her and without thinking called out.

"Sherlock!" She immediately darted back towards the source of the noise, noting the obvious insanity of running towards a firing gun as opposed to away from it. Sherlock saw her and dragged her behind a wall just in time to avoid another bullet. They could hear John leaving the room where he was somewhere behind them as the shots rang out again, Sherlock pulled her around the corner and up some stairs.

"Oi!" He yelled from their hiding spot, as more shots broke the silence.

"Some of those skulls are over 200,000 years old! Have some respect!" He continued and surprisingly the shots actually stopped.

"Thank you!" He called out from behind a pillar. Charlie's heart was in her mouth but after a moment of silence they looked around. There was no one there. Letting out simultaneous breaths of relief the duo ran back towards where Soo Lin was hiding, hearing a single shot as they caught up with John. He was on the ground cradling something in his arms.

"Fantastic." Charlie said dryly as Soo Lin's pale corpse stared up into the vaulted ceiling above them. She shivered and leant down to close the girl's eyes carefully.

"_Ar__ dheas __Dé __go __raibh__a __hanam__.__" _She whispered and stepped back. Sherlock stood stiffly for a moment then quietly curled an arm around her shoulders. She too was stiff for a moment then relaxed against him, her body thoroughly worn by the nights events. She bit her lip to stop her from saying anything then extended a hand to help John to his feet.

Charlie was more than incredibly irritated with DI Dimmock. He stood there with a smug look of superiority as his team worked to clean the area of the murder.

"Look, just how many murders is it going to take to convince you that this maniac is out there?" She yelled at him, still raw from Soo Lin's death. It was one thing to see dead victims, it was another entirely to have known them, talked to them and even understand them on a strange level. He marched past her and she grabbed his shoulder, forcefully turning him to face her. His eyes flew wide as he realised his mistake of thinking he could get away with being rude to her. Hr entire body was shaking with surpressed anger and her vivid green eyes flashed dangerously beneath the fiery hair, making her look like some insane pixie or something.

"Don't walk away from me you bastard! A young girl was shot tonight because of the killer that someone is meant to be tracking down...oh yes that would be you who's meant to be finding him wouldn't it?"

Sherlock stepped up to him as well and Dimmock knew the battle was lost.

"Brian Lucas and Eddie Van Coon were both smugglers working for a gang called the Black Lotus that was operating here in London, right under your nose." He said and Dimmock stiffened.

"Can you prove that?" He demanded and Sherlock smirked. Charlie had been to the morgue only a few times during her career at St. Bart's however she ha always been on friendly terms with the attendant who worked there. As they approached Molly in the hospital canteen she called out and the young woman smiled.

"Hello Molly! How are you?" She asked and Molly smile grew larger.

"Oh Charlie, hi… Sherlock!" She stated as he, John and an irate looking DI approached them group. She had gone a small shade of pink on Sherlock's arrival.

"Look, I know that the paperwork has already gone through but can we wheel a couple of the bodies out? It's quite important to our investigation." She asked and Molly frowned.

"You work with Sherlock?" She said and Charlie sighed.

"From time to time yes, pays the rent and keeps me fit. The bodies?"

"I don't know..." Molly said, the moment she heard Charlie lived with Sherlock her whole demeanor had changed. Sherlock, sensing her change, looked closely at her head.

"You hair...you've parted it to the side. You usually part it in the middle." He said, his voice sliding into what Charlie defined as charming.

"Yes, well..." Molly said looking flustered at his attention.

"It looks nice, suits you better that way." He said and she blushed profusely as she bowed her head. Charlie glared at Sherlock, both for toying with her friend and for awaking this annoying knot in her stomach. She couldn't understand it at all Sherlock was perfectly within his rights to flirt with anyone he chose, it was not her concern. Still, some tiny part of her brain was telling her that it was her concern, that she did care. Jealously did not become anyone and thus far Charlie had never fallen pray to it however Sherlock's minute attention to Molly gave her stomach an unpleasant twist that she couldn't quite explain away.

"Well I guess so. You do work here Charlie...come on, make it quick." Molly said finally, her voice slightly brittle as she lead them downstairs. They wheeled the cadavers out, unzipping the bags to reveal the feet, all of which had the same tattoo of a lotus.

"So.." Charlie murmured.

"Either these men all happened to go the same tattoo parlor or, shock horror, we're actually telling the truth!"

"So what do you want?" Dimmock asked.

"Every book from both of their apartments." Sherlock said immediately and Charlie's eyes widened in happiness.

"Their books?" Dimmock repeated and he nodded. After Dimmock left to get the to get the order for the books settled Charlie helped wheel the bodies away. Molly sat looking rather dejected.

"Why do I let him do that to me?" She said and Charlie looked up from the freezer drawer. Slamming the door closed she walked over to the brunette mortician and smiled.

"Because he's weirdly attractive behind the whole alien outer shell?" She teased and Molly giggled. She stopped and stared at Charlie.

"You're actually living with him though, how do you do it and not let him walk over you?" She asked and Charlie titled her head in thought.

"Maybe I just have a superiority complex, I've never let anyone walk over me least of all that stuck up jerk." She said and Molly laughed.

"So there's nothing between you two?" She asked.

"Please, have you met him? We're just work associates and on special occasions friends who happen to share the same apartment." Charlie said. Molly sighed and smiled.

"I'm thinking of giving it a shot with that guy from IT upstairs, you know, the one who thought my nose was cute?"

Though Charlie hadn't really worked in either IT or the morgue she was aware that there was a new guy in that sector called Jim. A sudden thought hit her.

"What's his last name?" She asked and Molly sat back stumped.

"It begins with 'M' but he's got the most adorable Irish accent." She said and Charlie's pulse raced. No, it was too much a coincidence. He couldn't be here in London, surely he would have called.

"Go for it." She said, finishing sadly,

"Life's too short. Thanks again Molls," She waved her goodbye and left in search of Sherlock and John. Back at Baker Street the trio trawled up the stairs again, fatigue making their feet drag. John collapsed I one of the armchairs and Charlie fled to the kitchen for more coffee.

"It's not just a criminal organisation, it was a cult. Brother was manipulated by one of its leaders...General Shaan..." She said and was cut off.

"We're still no closer to finding him." John said tiredly, his exhaustion finally showing through.

"Wrong, we've got almost everything we need to know!" Replied Sherlock hotly.

"She gave us most of the missing pieces. Why did he visit his sister? Why did he need her expertise?" He asked and Charlie though about it, trying to bring her brain around to focus.

"She worked in the museum. She was an expert in antiquities." She said quietly, the light dawning. She repeated this from the kitchen. "China has loads of antique, rare ones hidden after the revolution. The black lotus must be selling them." She leaned against the door frame and watched in a moment of excitement as Sherlock leapt for John's laptop once more to only half-hearted protests. John simply gave up and closed his eyes. She watched as Sherlock scanned through antiquities sold at auction, finding hundreds donated by anonymous sources and fetching a pretty penny each.

"So they probably did nick something then..." Charlie said, resting a hand on Sherlock's shoulder as she leaned closer to the screen. They both felt a tingle but ignored it as they stared at the items on sale. There came a knock at the door.

"Charlie are we collecting for charity?" Aunty Em's voice called from downstairs and the two traded confused looks.

"I'm sorry please repeat that statement." She asked.

"Well there's a young man at the door with crates of books." Her Aunt's voice called and Sherlock almost knocked Charlie flat in the process of leaping to the door.

"They're for a case. Well John, let's go." He called stirring their poor friend from his much needed sleep. The police officer at the door looked extremely confused. Charlie smiled tiredly and explained as much of the situation as she could. Sherlock returned from carrying a crate up with John, glaring daggers at the young officer who didn't seem to be keeping his eyes at the level of her face. In fact his eyes seemed to be zeroing in on the half undone blouse she had on. She glared at him and he looked away.

"Charlotte are you going to stand there and waste time or are you actually going to help with this case?" She heard Sherlock's voice from behind her, sounding way harsher than it needed to be but having the desired effect. She glared once more at the young officer (who no doubt was going to tell the other members of the force about his encounter with the worlds only consulting detective). Charlie looked excited at the pile of books that they had gathered. A self-expressed read-a-holic she could see herself curling up tonight on the couch with numerous books simply enjoying herself a little too much.

"Bloody hell." John said and she smiled at him.

"We're going to be up all night. You know when you say to your work friends 'I was up all night with two blokes' it doesn't generally make people think of this sort of thing... oh well." She said bemusedly and John snickered sleepily and Sherlock glanced over.

"Charlotte have you many such experiences to compare this to?" He asked, sounding genuinely interested. She turned the colour of a ripe beetroot and whacked him on the arm. It was possibly the most embarrassing moment of her lie with these two so far.

"No I do not! You little..." She couldn't even finish.

"ANY way." John interrupted, aware that if he let this one go they'd all be paying for it till Christmas.

"What are we doing with the books Sherlock." He asked and Charlie moved to one of the crates.

"The numbers were instructions..." He replied and moved to his own crate.

"Leading to books?" John asked and Sherlock gave him a pitying look. Charlie looked over sympathetically and smiled, still slightly pink face which clashed vividly with her flaming hair.

"Leading to specific pages and words in _a _book." She said happily.

"We just need to find one that both of them have and solve the riddle." She said and John sighed.

"Well then this shouldn't take too long should it?" He replied sarcastically as they all began unpacking the boxes.

_**Ar**__** dheas **__**Dé**__** go**__** raibh**__**a**__** hanam**__**=May **__**her **__**soul **__**be **__**on **__**God's **__**right-hand **__**side".**_** It****'****s ****a ****traditional**** Irish ****blessing**** for ****a ****deceased**** family ****member**** and ****is ****the ****basic ****equivalent ****of ****Rest ****in ****Peace.**

**Don't worry I plan to explain later exactly how Charlie knows Gaelic… *hint* family connections from before…**

**CLIFFY! Ha ha Reviews please!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Charlie POV:

A tired yawn escaped her as she lay down the last book in her second crate. She slumped against the plush armchair and looked over to where John was busily reading through a heavy looking bible, throwing it a minute later when 15 and 1 didn't work. A knock at the door announced they had a visitor, Charlie fixed Detective Inspector Dimmock with a firm look of distaste before settling back and pulling a third container towards her. He coughed and she looked up again.

"Found these at the museum." He said, brandishing the photographs of the graffiti. Her eyes widened slightly at their mistake, had they really just left the only bit of hard evidence they had on this case behind? She internally kicked herself.

"They yours?" Dimmock inquired.

"We hoped Soo Lin could decipher them for us." John said and reached forwards to take the photograph from the DI's hand. Charlie moved to stand beside Sherlock as he unpacked yet another crate of books. The two of them stood back gazed down at the pile before them and set to work.

Dimmock POV:

He watched Sherlock and his little red head curiously. There were rumours about these two flying around Scotland Yard at high speed, following their joint escape from the murderous cabbie people had been talking about nothing else since. He watched as the two of them seemed to work around each other perfectly, never once getting in the other's way but still relying on each other's presence to work efficiently (an occasional pass of book or move of rejected books to an ever growing pile in the middle of the room). They fit together flawlessly having never said a word the whole time he was in the room. In particular he watched Miss Myers. His eyes widened as he watched her simply skim the pages with a finger, then chuck it away. She seriously couldn't be reading at that speed, right? He felt stupid just being in the same room. It was obvious that the two people before him were simply something else; he dreaded the next generation envisioning smaller versions of the two people before him with a slight shudder. Deciding that now was a time to act he finally spoke.

"Anything I can do to assist you?" He asked. Sherlock didn't even look up as he spoke.

"Some silence right now would be marvellous."

He looked down at John who shrugged and continued his searching of his own pile of books. Alright then. He knew when he wasn't wanted, and probably in this case needed, he nodded to them all and left. He was going to need a strong coffee and a long talk with Donovan to settle this unease.

Charlie POV:

"Well thank god he left; I was beginning to feel like a science experiment." She said and the two men cracked identical smiles.

"I think he was simply stunned at the fact that you scat read, not a common sight in his profession or indeed his life I should think." Sherlock said dismissively and preceded to hand her yet another book. Seriously contemplating whether it was worth killing him, Charlie took it and curled up on the couch. A few minutes of silence ensued.

"Where do you know Gaelic from?" Sherlock asked suddenly and Charlie looked over at the clock on the wall.

"1 hour, 22 minutes and 4 seconds…" She muttered to herself and ignored him. She had been preparing for this question but she felt the need to tease a little.

"Charlotte?" Sherlock asked and she frowned up at him.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" She asked and he looked surprised.

"It's your name." He said simply and she quirked an eyebrow.

"Yes, but one I don't like… I" She stopped and simply went back to the book. Throwing it away mere seconds later she began the process again. She could feel his eyes on her but ignored it.

"Found anything?" She asked to no one in particular, watching as Sherlock dumped more books on the pile in the middle and John sighed before moving the books into a safer position. Sherlock simply placed _more_ books on the original pile and the whole process began again. Honestly why did she share a room with men? Children would have been better sometimes.

"No." Came the unanimous answer. She shrugged and delved into yet another dusty book, dismissing it immediately at the layers of dust and frailty of pages. The hours passed by slowly, book after book was studied and by morning even Sherlock had abandoned his jacket completely. Charlie herself had abandoned her t-shirt, sitting cross legged on the floor she was dressed in little more than her jeans and a singlet top. Books littered the floor around them and John was all but passed out with exhaustion on the table. The clock tower rang and he looked at his watch, sighing. Charlie saluted him as he stood.

"I have to get to work." He said and she rose. Placing a good luck kiss on his cheek she took the opportunity to move another pile of books towards the centre of the room. The door closed and she knew he had left the flat. She and Sherlock continued on their silent crusade.

"Sherlock?" She asked and he looked over momentarily.

"Yes." She felt a strange flutter in her stomach as he looked at her, his piercing blue eyes were in full focus mood and it made them seem… alive.

"We'll catch him right?" She said and he looked almost hurt at the suggestion of failure.

"Of course, I always catch them… why?"

"I have a feeling that this case is going to be similar to the last… bigger than we thought it was and some." She said simply and turned to pick up another book. There was silence, then she jumped slightly as warm hands were placed on her shoulders. She looked back over her shoulder and saw him staring down at her.

"We'll catch them Charlotte… you underestimate the power of my greatest weapon." He said and she snorted.

"What's that?" She teased and he smirked.

"You.' He said and she felt a bolt of electricity shoot through her. Had he just? Yes, she did believe so.

"Back to work. We've still got to catch this killer or I can't gloat that I was right." He said and she shook her head wearily. Hours passed but it came to nothing. Footsteps on the staircase and the lack of sunlight outside told them it was nearing the dead line. John appeared, waving tiredly and disappearing into his room. He appeared moments later dressed in new clothes.

"Going somewhere nice?" Charlie asked from her position on the couch.

"I have a date." He replied, smiling somewhat smugly. Charlie merely waved a hand and looking bored. To be honest she hadn't dated anyone since Uni and hadn't had sex for even longer; sexual frustration might have bothered her if she was normal but as everyone knew (including herself) she was far from normal so the lack of sex life really didn't bother her at all. A small voice inside her head made her think about that statement again. He grinned, far too used to his friend's antics to be offended.

"Oh come on Charlie, I know you're jealous… how long has it been since you had some?" He teased half heartedly. She fixed him with a tired glare.

"Longer than I care to admit, thank you very much Dr. Watson." She said and flung the book away with a frustrated sigh. Stretching her numbed muscles she grimaced as the feeling of pins-and-needles set in and the blood rushed back to them. John left not even ten minutes later.

"Charlie, wear something nice I'm taking you on a date." Sherlock said and she looked up in shock. He was looking at her with an amused smirk. This could not be good.

"I beg your pardon? You're taking me on a what?" She asked slowly.

"A date." He replied simply.

"You know where two people who like each other go out and have fun?" He explained and she looked around for the nearest projectile. "Sherlock... please tell me this I part of the case?" She said and he nodded. She let out the breath she hadn't known she was holding. She smiled and held up a finger, signaling for him to wait. She disappeared into her room.

Sherlock POV:

"It's for the case. Purely hypothetical." He shouted quickly at her retreating figure. He sat down and waited. Her voice floated back to him.

"Ah Sherlock? Does this hypothetical date require sensible foot wear?" She asked and he smiled. Great, running. God he loved this woman… what the hell! No he loved her brain and the stimulation of his work that she provided, that was all. Fine! She and John had definitely grown on him since they arrived, but it was just friendship right? Right? As his inner turmoil reigned on a door opened and Charlie stepped out. His mind went a little haywire. He stood and offered him arm, remembering the long lessons on etiquette his mother had persisted in teaching hr sons. With a small, amused smile she accepted and they walked down the stairs. Mrs. Hudson was in the hall and the moment she saw Charlie her mouth fell open.

"Oh Charlie, you look beautiful. Where are you going, I want her back before 1 o'clock Mr. Holmes do you hear me!" She yelled and parallel looks of confusion flashed across his and Charlie's faces. He watched as she tried to explain to her aunt what was happening but the older woman was simply too excited to listen.

"Hold still." She said and Charlie put two hands to her made up face in exasperation. Her aunt disappeared and reappeared a second later with a camera.

"No Aunty Em, please don't!" Charlie said and Sherlock decided to press his luck. Slipping an arm around her waist with a smirk he nodded to Mrs. Hudson. Charlie had no choice but to shut up and allow the picture. The moment that was done she was out of the door faster than one could say 'cheese'. Sherlock planted a kiss on Mrs. Hudson cheek and left quickly. He found Charlie waiting beside a cab and followed her inside.

Charlie POV:

Stepping out of the cab she saw John and stopped dead. Sherlock's hand forced her onwards and she gazed up at him in disbelief.

"Oh Sherlock you didn't." She whispered, surprised at herself for not realizing it.

"I did. Hello John." Sherlock said quickly before she could respond.

"What are you doing here?" John asked and glared at Sherlock, causing him to point at Charlie.

"Date." He said simply and John's eyes widened as they fell on Charlie. His eyebrows also nearly hit the roof.

"You're going on a date… with Charlie?" He said and Sherlock nodded. He turned to Charlie with an expression pleading her to help him understand.

"It's a long story John. It's not a date but it is a date and... well it's all rather confusing. Hi there I'm Charlie, you must be Sarah." Charlie said to the pretty brunette woman beside John who nodded. The two women seemed to get along well despite Sarah trying her best to seem unsurprised that her date was being somewhat crashed and Charlie trying to get over the fact that Sherlock asked her on a freaking date. They paid for the tickets and John dragged Sherlock off to find out what was really going on while the two women chatted.

"So you're Sherlock's girlfriend then?" Sarah asked and Charlie snorted.

"No, we're flat mates. As you can tell by his personality he's not socially informed and I believe he's misinterpreted the word 'date' to mean any sort of outing. We're friends but... You're a doctor right?" She asked, praying she hadn't blabbed too much. Sarah nodded, she look rather amused.

"Yes, how I met John. You?" She asked and Charlie grimaced.

"Forensic Psychologist at St. Bartholomew's, studied Psychology and Criminology, finished five years ago."

"Wow, that's amazing, I couldn't do that… I just handle children's shots." She said and Charlie looked terrified.

"Dear god, you and your fellow doctors are saints, I couldn't do that…" She said as they walked to catch up, hearing the end of a rather amusing comment from John. They climbed the stairs.

"This isn't a circus Sherlock." John muttered.

"This isn't their day job John." He reminded him and John rolled is eyes.

"Oh sorry I forgot, they're not a circus they're a gang of international smugglers." He said and Sherlock simply nodded, scanning the audience. Sarah raised her eyebrows, leaning in to whisper to Charlie for an update.

"Smugglers?" She asked and Charlie sighed, bringing more people into this investigation could get the hurt but maybe an extra pair of eyes could be useful.

"It's a case, Sherlock's a detective." She said quietly.

"Just keep on the look out for anything unusual." She said and Sarah nodded. A tiny drum beat started and they watched as a heavily mad up Chinese woman set off a large crossbow with the weight of a feather.

"Shit that's fast." Murmured Charlie, stepping as close to Sherlock. After all, the murderer had tried to kill him once already. He explained the act to her quietly, whispering into her ear.

"Ancient Chinese escapology act. Cross bow is on a delicate string. The warrior has to escape his bonds before it fires. She empties the sand bag, the ball lowers into the bowl and he has to escape before contact." He said as though announcing tomorrow's weather forecast. She looked up at him in amusement.

"It's pretty dangerous for amateurs…" She said and Sherlock smiled. She watched quietly as the man escaped just in time to avoid being killed. As they clapped, he grasped her arm, dragging her to the back of the stage.

"Sherlock what are we..." She began but he stopped her with a violent.

"Ssh." He placed a finger on her lips.

"Follow me." He murmured and she sighed, in frustration or annoyance even she couldn't tell.

"If my dress gets ruined I'll never forgive you." She said and looked down at the fabric. It was a shimmering green, which matched her eyes perfectly, and fell to just above her knees. It was strapless, with a sweetheart neckline and a black ribbon of silk tucked just under her bust to be tied off at the back. A pair of sensible, black ballet flats sheathed her feet and pearl drop earrings were attached to her lobes. Yes she would most certainly kill him if this dress got anything more than a small tear. They searched around backstage, they came back with nothing. As a door opened Sherlock shoved her and himself behind a rack of costumes, listening as someone entered the room. They were extremely close but dared not move an inch. The man left and she picked a can of yellow spray paint out of a bag and showed him as they left the confined space. He tested in on a mirror, drawing the number 1, and she jumped violently as someone lurking in the shadows leapt towards Sherlock, wielding what appeared to be a sword. It was obvious they had seen her as the lesser threat. She crept up behind the struggling men kicking his feet out from beneath him and sending him toppling. It was a distraction that they both needed as Sherlock sprayed him in the face with yellow paint. Even partially blinded and battered from the fall the guy was quick. Forcing both herself and Sherlock back with wild slashes. She toppled out of the curtains, assassin just behind her, landing with a shriek and a jarring thud. There were several shouts from the crowd as Sherlock leapt out after him and yanked him roughly off of her, receiving a hard hit for his trouble. John ran forwards as people headed for the exit, stopping the attacker from knocking one of his flatmates out cold but earning a kick in the stomach. He doubled over. Charlie sneaked up behind them and, pinching her fingers by his neck, paralysed him temporarily before looked concernedly in his direction. Sarah grabbed a pole and hit the man on the head as he began to resurface. Charlie grinned at her.

"I think we could get along very well Sarah... you all right down there Sherlock?" She asked the man who was slowly rising. She held out a hand and helped him upright from where the attacker had managed to knock him backwards. Nodding he ripped the shoe off of the unconscious man, revealing the tattoo.

"Come on! Let's go!" He called and they took off towards the exit.

Charlie was beyond cold and frustrated by the time DI Dimmock walked up to them.

"Look we sent a couple of cars, the old hall is completely deserted." He said and his eyes glared daggers at her and Sherlock.

"We saw the tattoo at the circus! The same tattoo that was on Lucas and Van Coon was also on the foot of a Chinese circus performer who I might add tried to kill us with a machete." She replied, tired with his lack of response. Sarah looked around, lost, still holding onto John's arm like a lifeline. If she hadn't been so annoyed she would have smiled.

"Lucas and Van Coon were part of their smuggling ring...one of them stole something valuable from China." John said quietly and Dimmock whirled on him.

"Now these circus performers were gang members sent to get it back." Sherlock finished and the DI turned back to him.

"Get what back?" He asked tiredly.

"We don't know." John admitted and Dimmock raised an eyebrow.

"You don't know?" He asked slowly and Charlie's good mood vanished.

"To be honest Dimmock what we know right now is a damn lot more than you!" She growled and he back tracked a bit. Turning to Sherlock with a frown he started his true assault.

"Mr Holmes, I have done everything you've asked. Lestrade seems to think your advice is worth something. I gave the order for a raid, please tell me I'll have something to show for it other than a massive bill for overtime?" He asked and Sherlock shrugged.

"We'll see ourselves out." Sherlock said, guiding her away with a gentle tug on her hand, ignoring the stares sent their way.

"They'll be back in China by tomorrow." John said. Charlie shook her head, her sleep deprived brain was working overtime and she stopped.

"Shut up everyone stop thinking and shut up!" She yelled and her hands began to massage her temples. Everyone did as she asked and she began to think. Her years of psychological study kicked in.

"No. They won't leave. They can't… no… they won't leave without whatever it is they came for… they can't leave without it." She murmured slowly trying to fit the pieces.

"We need to find their hide out...their rendezvous." She said to Sherlock and he nodded, guiding them all to the cab and taking them home. Once in the lounge room of 221B Baker Street coffee for Sarah and John was produced.

"Is it just me or is anyone else starving?" Sarah suggested.

"Oh God." Sherlock moaned boredly. Charlie slapped him upside the head. He glared at her but she just shook her head and sat down with a heavy sigh. Her phone had buzzed not a moment after they entered the apartment and she had been forced to answer it, leaving her in a strange mood. Almost as though she was slowly depleting. The phone was still in her hand and she gripped it tightly, her knuckles showing white.

"John, check the fridge." She said and John spluttered.

"Why me?" He asked and she smiled tightly.

"You're her date, it's your job." She replied, smiling sweetly as a grouchy Sherlock lowered himself into a chair. Sarah looked at the walls of the apartment as John rooted around the cupboards and through the leftovers from the last shopping trip.

"So this is what you do? You solve puzzles for a living?" She asked Sherlock and he nodded.

"Consulting detective." He said and Charlie nodded as she glared at the case pictures pinned to the walls. Next came something no one expected, she threw a large book straight at the wall with a violent energy that shocked everyone. It hit the plaster with a deafening slam and everyone in the apartment jumped. Sarah gave a startled cry and Charlie immediately whirled to her.

"Oh Sarah I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. I don't usually do that..." She said and Sarah nodded. Sherlock was now convinced there was something very wrong with her. Sarah walked over and asked Sherlock another question. Charlie noted that the presence of the other woman didn't have the same effect as her presence, Sherlock looked ready to launch himself out the window. She actually slapped herself in the face, who bloody cared I another woman made him happy, certainly not her. She shrugged and smiled gratefully at her aunt who dropped off a tray of punch and crisps. Sarah said something and Sherlock was on his feet. He grabbed the coded photograph in excitement.

"Charlotte! John! Soo Lin had already started deciphering it! Look...Nine Mill." He said and Charlie was beside him in an instant, smiling at Sarah with renewed gratitude.

"Nine million?" She said softly and Sherlock jumped.

"Nine million quid for what?" Sherlock shouted as he jumped up, grabbing his coat.

"We must have been staring right at it! Come on, let's go!" He yelled and dashed out of the door.

"Go where?" John demanded as Sarah watched all three of them interact.

"The museum restoration room! While we were running around in the galleries, Soo Lin was translating the code! It must have been on her desk!" He ran out of the flat. Charlie simply watched and shook her head. The man's energy should be bottled and sold if it was that good.

"Take away?" John asked, the two women nodded and he went off to find the menus, smiling apologetically.

"I feel a little pressing... I don't have to go with him do I? He's actually annoying me!" Charlie asked quietly and Sarah chuckled, shaking her head.

"It's your flat, I'm not going to make you leave. How on earth do you manage this? I mean I like to go out and wrestle a couple of Chinese smugglers as much as the next girl but..." She joked and Charlie smiled. It had been ages since she'd sat around with a girlfriend and just talked. Thalia, her boss, was nice but still her boss. Growing up she hadn't had many friends so really, having Sarah around was just nice.

"It's exciting I suppose. My life was always so boring the eat, work, sleep thing sends you crazy after a while and then before I know what hit me I'm solving murders and wrestling Chinese smugglers as though I've been at I my whole life. It would be nice accept Sherlock doesn't seem to understand the fact that I actually need to sleep." Sh said and Sarah smiled.

"Then there's Sherlock. You like him don't you?" She asked and Charlie titled her head quizzically.

"I don't understand, sure I like him… he's my flat mate and at times work college… you can't live with someone you hate." She said and Sarah looked at her in shock.

"You two are so right for each other, both just a little out of it but pure genius material." She said, almost to herself, and Charlie suddenly realised the conversation point.

"Oh you mean as a potential partner, oh no, Sherlock he… we… god it's complicated." Charlie said and this time it was almost to herself. Sarah just smiled and nodded. The doorbell went and Charlie went to answer it, opening it quickly. A man stood there.

"Can I help you Sir?" She asked.

"Do you have it?"

"Have what?" Ready to close the door if this got weirder.

"The treasure..." He said and she prepared to close the door.

"What treas..." He pushed the door inwards and smacked her with something hard near her temple. The world spun and she crashed to the floor. People moved past her and cries from upstairs sounded as Sarah and John were ambushed. She felt someone lift her up and drag her away.

"Aunty Em!" She called but the television was on and her voice was far too weak. Outside they were piled into a waiting van, she saw circus performers pile John and Sarah inside the back. She turned her head and saw Sherlock coming towards them along Baker Street, she tried to call out to him but another blow landed on her temple and she blacked out.

Sherlock POV:

Sherlock ran up the stairs. The book was still in his hand. H couldn't believed he'd missed it, it was simply genius.

"John! Charlotte! I've got it! The book was the London A to Z..."

He trailed off. The flat was completely silent. Checking the rooms he made certain. There was no John, no Sarah and no Charlotte. His worse fears were confirmed when he looked to the windows and saw two symbols, painted in yellow. They matched the ones he had just deciphered.

Dead Man.

**Alright that was a long one and I promise you will find out the Irish connection in the next chapter… I do solemnly swear. Please review! It keeps me going. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

**Hey Guys, there's a poll i would like you all to look at if you have the time regarding the ending to this fic. It won't take long and i would really appreciate the input as this story is out here for you guys alone and i want it to be the best for you all. Thanks a lot and i'll update soon.  
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Charlie POV:

The first thing that entered Charlotte Myers head when she awoke was that she was 100 percent sure that if she ever saw Sherlock Holmes again she was going to give him such a what for he wouldn't be walking straight till Christmas. Her head pounded like a drummer on steroids and she couldn't move an inch since being strapped to a chair really inhibits one's ability to create movement, especially if it's with duck tape… which it was. She looked around and realised they were in a tunnel; train going by the tracks and near the Themes going by the smell. Convenient if you were smugglers needing to hide away from law enforcement long enough, the tunnels stretched on for miles and had probably been abandoned for years. Being near the river they were close enough to viable escape routes if that's what you were after too.

"Sarah!" She whispered to the other woman, tied to an identical chair beside her. The woman stirred and looked over at her.

"Charlie!" She whispered back and tears began to spill down her cheeks. She was sitting next to John, who was similarly bound.

"Don't worry; Shirley's going to be here any second. If he's not I'm going to haunt him for the rest of his miserable life then drag him straight to my own personal brand of hell." Charlie whispered quickly, humour could often help in these situations when 'normal' people went into shock.

"A book is like a magic garden carried in your pocket Mr. Holmes." Charlie looked over at a small Chinese woman, the General Shang Soo Lin Yao had told them about. John spluttered a poor denial.

"I-I'm not Sherlock Holmes." John said and the woman smirked.

"Forgive me if I do not take your word for it." She said and pulled out a wallet Charlie recognized to be Sherlock's.

"That wallet is most certainly Sherlock Holmes but the man you have tied to a chair is most certainly not the owner." Charlie said clearly to the woman. A second later a powerful blow landed on the side of her head and stars floated up in front of her vision. Through a fog Charlie heard her announce the 'evidence' pointing to John as Sherlock Holmes. Oh great.

"Three times we have tried to kill you Charlotte Myers, what does it tell you when an assassin cannot shoot straight?" General Shang asked. Charlie struggled to sit up and hissed at her.

"_Póg __mo__ thóin_." She spat at the old hag and although it was highly likely the woman didn't understand the words, the tone was clear enough. Her hand lashed out and caught Charlie's cheek with a loud crack. Sarah cried out and John cursed at the woman in anger.

"He's not really trying." She pulled the trigger and… nothing happened. They turned to John.

"No more blank bullets Mr Holmes. Do you have it?" General Shang asked, almost casually.

"Have what?" He asked, still furious from the slap.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I would prefer to make certain." They unveiled the crossbow from the circus. Charlie's throat completely dried as it was set to face the middle of the two helpless women. Shang turned back to John.

"Everything in the West has its price Mr Holmes. The price for their lives is information." She said and nodded to one of her helpers. He pushed it towards Charlie slightly, John struggled to get loose. The pushed it back towards Sarah and a loud shout escaped his lips.

"Her." Shang said simply and they left the bow pointed towards Sarah. Accordingly she began to panic, Charlie tugged at her bonds furiously ignoring the pain that came with her struggles. The ropes that held her began to dig into her skin, blood leaked and soaked the rope and her wrists.

"Sarah its going to be alright, we're all going to get out of here alive and I promise you Sherlock will get here soon." Charlie said but Sarah just cried.

"Where is the pin?" Shang demanded.

"What?" John asked, distressed now beyond all reasonable thought.

"The Empress pin! We already had a buyer in the west, nine million sterling, then one of our carriers got greedy and stole it!" Shang screamed and Charlie understood. She began to saw at the knots again, she was going to kill someone (namely a tall, dark, enigmatic consulting detective) if they didn't hurry up… she had this mystery wrapped like a Christmas present and she was not going to die before she let someone know.

"Please you have to believe me! I'm not Sherlock Holmes and I haven't found whatever it is you're looking for!" John begged but their captor merely laughed. They split the sandbags and Charlie's breath caught in her throat, maybe they actually weren't going to get out of here. She thought about all she hadn't done in the last few years, all the promises she had broken and the people she hurt. She thought of her family and tears burned her eyelids as she struggled to hold them back. Francis… oh god Francis.

"I'm so sorry Francis, Im so sorry." She whispered as the thoughts crossed her mind, burning her brain and halting all movement. She looked over to Shang who was smiling now.

"Ladies and gentlemen, from the moonlit shores of N-W-1, we bring for your pleasure, Sherlock Holmes' pretty companion in a death-defying act!" She announced, every bit the ring master of some grotesque circus act.

"No! Please!" Shouted John, he was struggling valiantly against the bonds that held him.

"I'm not Sherlock Holmes!"

"I don't believe you!" Shang sand sickeningly.

"You should you know." A deep, slightly arrogant voice called from the darkness of the tunnels and Charlie let out a sigh of relief. It was Sherlock's voice but there was definitely something odd about it... It sounded angry. Very angry. Now that was definitely interesting.

"Sherlock Holmes is nothing at all like him." Sherlock called. The General cocked her gun and pointed it behind Charlie into the direction of the voice.

"How would you describe me John? Resourceful, dynamic? Enigmatic?" Sherlock asked, almost teasingly.

"Late?" John said, breathlessly. The relief was evident on his face.

"Very late, nearly missed the grand finale." Charlie said and General Shang slapped her again. Really this woman was getting on her nerves with all this slapping. A growl emanated from the darkness behind her and Charlie smiled, Shang had better start running.

"That's a semi-automatic. If you shoot the bullet will travel at over 1000 metres per second." Sherlock called.

"Well?"

"Well..." Charlie piped up and glared at the woman as she pointed the gun into her face.

"The radius curve of these walls is nearly four metres…" She began and a shout of pain echoed from behind them.

"If you miss, the bullet will ricochet and it could hit anyone. Including you." Sherlock finished and Charlie sighed in relief. The light behind them went out with a violent _crash!_ And Charlie watched saw him trying to untie Sarah, only to be strangled by a man with a scarf. No not again.

"Sherlock!" She screamed and saw that the bag was nearing its final destination with astonishing speed. She looked over and saw the John was trying to move over to Sarah, knew he would never make it.

"I'm sorry Sarah." Charlie said and the woman looked over at her. Without warning Charlie flung herself from the chair skin tore where duck tape still held fast, a burns occurred from the still tight rope. Gasping in pain she pushed her chair over and hit Sarah out of her way. Now she was in the firing line. She didn't have enough time to move herself fully away... She stared down the line of the bow and waited calmly. John tried to hop over on his chair and toppled before he got far. Charlie smiled at him tightly and just waited.

"_Slán.__" _Charlie whispered and closed her eyes. She heard the arrow release, god she'd never told him! Air rushed past and she heard a cry of pain. Opening her eyes she looked around. Sarah's arrow had flown out but shot Sherlock's assailant in the side. It had missed, completely missed her but only by mere millimeters. Charlie began to hyperventilate.

"Charlie!" Sherlock leapt over the fallen man and rushed to her side. He untied the rest of the rope and without thinking Charlie simply launched herself into his arms. He held her tightly, just about holding her up. She looked up and saw that she must be crying, his face was slightly blurred with her tears.

"You're late." She muttered and he looked apologetic.

"I'm sorry." He said simply. She hugged him tightly, enjoying the fact that he still hadn't let her go. John's voice broke the moment and the two detached from each other, Charlie simply hung off Sherlock's arm and turned to face the other couple.

Sherlock POV:

Charlie was still but limp, Sherlock could feel her warmth against his side. Semi-sociopathic or not, she could go into shock at any moment so he simply let her stay close to him. He would not admit that he enjoyed the feel of her near him or how much seeing her nearly get shocked had scared him. Too late, the annoying little voice told him and he scowled at himself. John looked over to Sarah.

"Next date won't be like this...I promise." She smiled weakly; well that was nearly sickeningly clichéd. As it turned out Charlie refused a shock blanket. She didn't go into shock because very soon she began to berate hi on taking so long to reach them. His only defence had been the miles of tunnels to choose from and the calculation time he'd spent determining where they were. She still hadn't accepted this but couldn't disagree either. Sarah on the other hand had accepted a blanket, walking off arm in arm with John just ahead of them. Charlie still had her hand looped into the crook of his elbow. Surprisingly he didn't mind, the adrenalin had worn off by now so why didn't he mind the contact. Charlie was quiet as they approached Dimmock.

"Holmes..." He began but Sherlock cut him off at the tee. Looking at John and Charlie he could see the exhaustion was about to set in.

"I have high hopes for you Inspector. A glittering career." He said quickly.

"I just go where you point me." Argued Dimmock.

"Exactly." Charlie said and extended her hand to Dimmock. He looked surprised, Sherlock felt his own splashed across his face. After a second Dimmock took the hand and smiled.

"Good evening Miss. Myers." He said and she nodded curtly. Turning to face Sherlock she sighed.

"Sherlock, let's go home." She said and he nodded. The cab ride was very quiet, no one had much to say. John had dropped Sarah off, then rested for a few hours. Charlotte had gone to explain t her Aunt what had happened before taking off the now destroyed dress she had worn and having a long shower. Sherlock felt a little annoyed it was so, she had looked stunning. He remembered when they had left, she had been both excited and nervous at the prospect of dressing up. A lack of regular childhood and busy early adulthood must have kept her away from social scenes, possible inhibiting flow of communication with parents… most likely strict. He flicked through some of her journals, realizing what was missing. For all her love of her Aunt, pictures of her other family were no where in sight. She talked of a brother whom she said she was close to (usual for adopted children) but there were no pictures, letters or clues to his existence at all. Fair enough she was estranged from her adoptive parents; she had said so before and made no effort to hide the obvious distaste for her parentage. Most interesting were the notes written in neat Gaelic, she had recently showed signs of speaking the language, the continued use of the second language meant she had some family or connection an Irish background… before her adoption perhaps. She entered the room just as he put the papers down. She was dressed in an old football jersey, knee socks and boxers; her wet hair made her look quite lost, her huge green eyes making her seem quite young but at the same time unearthly. She walked over and sat down next to him on the couch, leaning her head against his shoulder she smiled up at him quietly. Slowly her eyes closed and she was asleep. He waited for dawn to come, dosing off occasionally but mostly keeping watch over her. The next morning saw them all seated around the kitchen table.

"So ninety million pounds for a hair pin?" John expounded incredulously. Charlie and Sherlock nodded as the former poured them all coffee and tea. The latter was informed that if he ever wanted o walk again he was to keep his feet of the table. He moved his feet to rest of the floor.

"Why so much?" John asked amusedly.

"Depends who owned it." Sherlock said flippantly, sipping on his coffee and glaring over it at Charlie who calmly sipped her tea with relish.

Charlie POV:

"Eddie Van Coon was the thief." Sherlock explained as they gazd up at the bank once more.

"He got greedy and stole the pin."

"How do you know that?" John demanded and Sherlock sent Charlie a look. She smiled.

"Even the killer didn't know that!"

"The soap." She said happily and walked through the revolving doors.

He just laughed bemusedly and followed her through, knowing he would be told the connection in time. Sherlock marched over to Van Coon's PA. The woman smiled and waited.

"He bought you a present didn't he? Something from China?" Sherlock demanded. She jumped and flushed a brilliant shade of red. Charlie arrived on a more subtle approach.

"The cream on her desk...the soap in his apartment...it all make's sense." She said to John quietly and he nodded, not quite there yet.

"Yes...How?" He asked and she grinned. Turning to the PA she smiled.

"You weren't just his PA were you?" She asked and the woman's smile faded.

"Someone's been gossiping." Said Amanda angrily.

"No, please understand. He had scented hand soap, almost empty. No self respecting man buys scented soap unless he has a lady coming round. It's the same brand as the hand cream on your desk." Charlie explained carefully. The woman stuttered.

"Look it wasn't serious between us. It was over in a flash, couldn't be serious. He was my boss." She stuttered ad Charlie nodded.

"What happened?" Sherlock asked hurriedly.

"Why did you end it?"

"I thought he didn't appreciate me. Took me for granted. Stood me up once too often. We'd plan to go away for the weekend and then he'd just leave." She said bitterly and Charlie sent a look at John. The dot connected and illumination appeared in his eyes.

"He bought you a present to make up though." She said, stealing the limelight from Sherlock who frowned.

"That's a gorgeous hair pin, could I have a look?" She asked and the woman handed it over as John went to collect the cheque from Sebastian.

"Said he bought it in a street market." Amanda said and took it back.

"I don't think that's true, I think he pinched it." Sherlock said and Amanda clucked disapprovingly.

"That sounds like Eddie."

"Didn't know it's value, just thought it would suit you..." Charlie muttered, casually.

"Oh really?" Amanda asked.

"How much is it worth?" She enquired curiously and Charlie allowed Sherlock his moment, which he jumped on immediately.

"Nine million pounds." He announced and the woman's mouth flew wide.

"OH MY GOD! NINE MILLION!" She shrieked. Charlie jumped and clamped an ear with her hand.

"Yes, definitely going deaf in that one." She muttered to Sherlock who merely smirked and lead her away.

It seemed Charlie drew the sort straw, ending up with the paperwork to give Scotland Yard the next day. She handed it to Dimmock with a flourish. He smiled and took it.

"Thanks." He said and she smiled.

"Um, can you do something for me?" She asked and he nodded.

"You had a cadaver brought in a few days ago, a suspect involved in mob activity?" She asked and he nodded, weary.

"Yes, no ones come forward t claim him, he has until Friday to be claimed before he becomes another John Doe." He said and she nodded.

"Where is he?" She asked and he wet to look it up. She sat and waited. He returned with a file. She read it quickly and thanked him. She made it just outside the building before crumpling against the wall. Sobs shook her entire frame and she hurried to catch a cab to St. Bart's. Taking her time she slowly walked the stairs to the morgue. Molly was there and she waved to Charlie as she entered. One sight of her face and the smile left the tiny brunette's face.

"Charlie what's wrong?" She cried and rushed forwards.

"I'm here to ID a body, a John Doe from three days ago." She said and Molly nodded. She walked over to the wall and checked the names and dates. She pulled a drawer out and Charlie walked out to it. The body was covered and she held her breathe as Molly pulled the white sheet back. It was him, a small cry left her lips as Francis' face stared up at her from the steel slide. Molly's face crumpled in sympathy and she quickly covered his face again.

"Oh Charlie I'm so sorry. Can you give us his name so we can release him to his family?" She asked and Charlie nodded.

"I am his family, he's my brother. Francis Myers." She said stiffly and Molly nodded.

"I'll leave you alone for a few minutes." She whispered and Charlie smiled at her thankfully. The door closed and she was alone once more with her brother. Peeling back the sheet she stared into Francis' face again. Reaching out she stroked his cheek gently, remembering all the times he had done so when she was sick or scared. Taking a deep breathe she began to speak.

"_A dheartháir, Tá brón orm. Tá brón orm, a chara. _

_Tá__ do __neart__ de__ dhíth__ orm,__ Francis.__Sílim__ go__ mbeidh__ trioblóidí__ romhainn._Níl saol agam gan tú féin_ A__ dheartháir,__ Tá__ brón __orm.__Tá __grá __agam __duit,__ Francis.__Tá__ grá __agam__ duit__ anois__is __choíche.__" _

Her voice snapped on the last phrase and she collapsed against the sliding tray. She sobbed and sobbed, all the pain, rage and sadness she had felt in the last 12 years pouring out as she cried over the body of her brother. It took a long time for the tears to stop falling, she had a lot of anguish to shed. It was the closing of a door behind her that made her stop. Slowly she clambered to her feet, wiped her eyes and placed a small kiss to her brother's forehead. It was too cold. She swept his brown, curling hair out from his eyes, looked into his green eyes one last time before she pulled the back over him. Turning around her wore fears were confirmed. Sherlock stood there in the doorway of the morgue, his eyes fixed directly on her face. Cautiously she moved the tray back into its shelf, he watched her every move quietly until the situation obviously got to him.

"That's your brother isn't it?" He asked and she nodded. The glare she was giving him dared him to keep going. He sighed and moved to stand beside her. He pulled the tray back out and pulled the sheet back briefly. He nodded, recovered and shoved the tray back in. He looked own at her and she felt all her energy drain from her. He caught her and turned her around gently. His arm sneaked around her waist and he guided her back past Molly who smiled sadly after them, Charlie made a note to thank her for everything later. A cab was called and soon they were back at 221B Baker Street.

"I have to let Aunty Em know." Charlie said and Sherlock nodded.

"Of course, I wait here." He said and she nodded. Her face blank, she had let all her emotions go. There was nothing inside her now. She knocked on her Aunt's door. There was a bustling sound. It opened and Mrs. Hudson appeared.

"Yes dear? Is there something wrong?" She asked and Charlie nodded.

"If that Sherlock's said something I'll…" She began, ever the defending aunt.

"No Aunty Em. It's not about Sherlock, it's about Francis." She said and her aunt stopped immediately.

"You found him?" She said hopefully and Charlie nodded. Her aunt smiled.

"I knew you'd do it. Is he alright, where has that boy got to?" She asked and Charlie's stomach did a flip.

"He's you see… Francis is… oh Aunty Em… he's dead." She said finally and watched as her aunt's face crumpled. They held onto each other for a long time while her Aunt cried. Her cried brought John down the stairs but voices from the hall told Charlie Sherlock had waved him away. The front door closed and she knew Sherlock wanted to talk. She sighed. She said goodbye to her aunt who left to start calling relatives about the funeral. Charlie walked back to Sherlock and allowed him to lead her upstairs.

Sherlock POV:

Sitting in the lounge room Sherlock finally cracked. He'd waited so long to finally talk to her. He'd done his research, now he was just plain interested… as a friend. She looked dead. It was the only way t describe her. Her usually bright eyes were clouded with grief and her shoulders were bowed as though she were taking the weight of the world on them. He sat down next to her and she curled up into his chest. He went rigid for a moment, then completely relaxed. He moved his arm and held her gently to him as he placed his chin on the top of her head.

"All those calls, they were from your adoptive mother." He said and she nodded.

"Hm, about Francis?" He asked, another nod.

"He'd been missing for days. The day we got this new case you finally got the call from your mother to tell you so. You've been on the phone with her on and off for the last three days and you've been looking for him… I saw the folder." He said and she sighed.

"I knew it was trouble, my mother only ever calls with trouble." She said and her voice was flat, emotionless. She licked her lips.

"I just wanted to know where he was… we've been estranged for the last few years, ever since he got involved with the underground." She said and he merely nodded.

"At first I thought he was hiding… gang war or something, then I saw it… at Scotland Yard." She said and her voice broke.

"The case board." He said and she nodded.

"I recognized him immediately, those policemen won't find anything on his murder… the gangs take care of themselves… especially this one." She said blankly. She shifted and gripped him tighter.

"I should have tried harder, to forgive, to forget but I was doing my degree… in freaking criminology. We were at polar ends and I remember the last thing I ever said to him…" She whispered now and he strained to hear her.

"_Is __fuath __liom__ thú,__tá __súil__ agam __go__ ngabhfaidh__ tú__ go__ hIfreann.__" _She said tremulously and a hand came up to wipe her eye.

"I told I hated him, to go to hell… basically that I never wanted to see him again. I never did, until today." She said softly.

"Your family's Irish isn't it?" He asked.

"Yes, before our adoption we lived in Ireland. We moved to England when I was 5." She said and he looked interested.

"You still speak Gaelic then." He said.

"Only a bit, I always spoke to Francis in it. It helped us deal with Mum and Dad, but now I don't know… I doubt I'll ever need to use it again." She said and sighed. Sherlock was lost, he'd told John to leave but he really needed to know what to do now and John was the best way of finding out. Lost he simply held her and stared at the wall. Night settled and they didn't move. They simply sat there while she grieved. Sherlock wrote a quick note to John and left it where he could see it if he came home.

"Charlie, you know you'll always have me." He said and she murmured sleepily. Looking down he realised she was half awake.

"You called me Charlie." She said sleepily and he smiled.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He said and she smiled back. Hugging him tightly she reached up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He savoured the touch briefly.

"Good night Sherlock."

"Good night Charlie."

"_Tá __grá__ agam__ duit.__"_

John POV:

Walking through the door, he was surprised beyond all belief that his flatmates were in the lounge room. It was 2 o'clock in the morning. Then he noticed they were both asleep, and curled up in each other's arms. He debated taking a picture, realizing both would probably kill him and justice would never be served he decided it was in his best interests to simply head to bed. Paper caught his eye and he picked up the note scrawled by Sherlock.

_John,_

_Charlotte's brother died three days ago. Funeral to be held soon, ask Mrs. Hudson. Prepare to leave for Cardiff in two days. _

_SH_

That explained the scene he had just found. His heart went out to his female flat mate and he sighed as he exited the room. Two days and they would be going to a funeral, with Sherlock Holmes he didn't expect such an event to be normal… at all.

**And im nearly done with this story. Funeral scene, going to be sad and interesting I hope… please bear with me. Reviews!**

**Translations:**

_**Póg **__**mo **__**thóin**__ Kiss_ _my_ _ass_ _(love__this__one)_

_**Slán **__Goodbye_

_**A**** dheartháir,**** Tá**** brón**** orm** My Brother, I'm sorry._

_**a**** chara** My friend_

_**Tá ****do ****neart ****de**** dhíth ****orm,**** Francis** I need your strength Francis._

_**Sílim**** go**** mbeidh**** trioblóidí**** romhainn**I think there are troubles ahead._

_**Níl****saol**** agam**** gan**** tú**** féin** I don't have a life without you (a way of saying I miss you)_

_**Tá**** grá**** agam**** duit,**** Francis**I love you, Francis_

_**Tá**** grá**** agam ****duit**** anois****is ****choíche** I love you now and always._

_**Is**** fuath ****liom ****thú,**** tá****súil**** agam**** go**** ngabhfaidh**** tú**** go ****hIfreann **I hate you and I hope you go to hell (a sort of literal translation)_


	7. Author's Note

**Author's Note**

**Hi everyone I'm sorry about the wait but I've had so many plot lines running through my head at the moment it's simply a mad house in there… in the immortal words of Sherlock Holmes:**

"**Is it nice not being me? It must be so relaxing." **

**Alright back to business, enjoying the story. I'm changing the rating to M because that's what the general consensus was for the ending, I don't honestly know how this lemon is going to go so any help you guys can give me will be most appreciated. **

**Be safe my loves and dream of wonderful consulting detectives. **

**With love, First-Step XX**


	8. Chapter 7

**Seven**

**So here it is my new chapter. I hope you all enjoy it because I'm really looking for some fan fic love right now… no one is reviewing on one of my other stories and it is making me so depressed the stuff I'm writing is becoming depressed, I suppose it's a good thing considering this is a funeral scene. **

**Anyway, have fun and enjoy I made this with love for you all.**

Sherlock POV:

"Seriously Sherlock you don't need to come with me, you didn't even know him." Charlie said firmly, trying and failing for the umpteenth time to persuade her flatmate to remain in London for the upcoming funeral. She was standing in the living room, standing in front of the full length mirror twisted at an awkward angle in a poor attempt to see the annoying little zip on the back of her black dress. This resulted in her upper body being somewhat exposed to the two male occupants of the room, one of which was steadfastly typing away on his laptop in an attempt at being polite and the other simply staring at her with an annoyingly superior expression on his face.

"Wipe that smirk off your face before I do something we'll all regret later." She said and sensing an argument about to brew inside the tiny flat the aforementioned gentleman removed himself discreetly from the room and headed downstairs to check on Mrs. Hudson. After John left Sherlock, who was reclining against the armrest of the lounge with a long forgotten book clasped in his hand, watched Charlie struggle with her unco-operating clothing in silent amusement. She had her usually flowing red hair tied up into a neat bun with none of its usual strands allowed to slip loose. The dress itself was plain silk. A modest sweat heart neckline and semi-transparent tee shirt style sleeves made her look rather mature, odd considering her unusual hobby of annoying the hell out of him on a regular basis. With an amused sigh he stood and walked over to her. She saw him approach and pointed a finger at him warningly. As usual he simply ignored her, it was better to have her slightly mad at him than thoroughly distraught like she had been for the past two days.

"That is unimportant Charlotte. He's dead and I know you. According to social protocol I looked up on the internet and John's constant nagging, I'm coming whether I want to or not." He said calmly and knocked her hand out of the way. He looked at her tired face in the mirror before gazing down at the slim expanse of winter pale flesh displayed beneath his nose. He had always marveled at how smooth her skin was except for the scar he had seen near her hip all those weeks ago. He took a deep, but discreet, breath before carefully pulling zipper up; cursing the thing silently when it stopped and started along the way. When he'd finally completed the task he turned his female friend to face him and dipped his head to look into her lowered eyes, which were pointed steadfastly towards the floor.

"Charlotte, you cannot do this alone… even I know that." He said and a small smile broke across her lips.

"Oh yes and the blathering social idiot that is Sherlock Holmes knows all and sees all, thank you very much." She mocked and he grinned. Success! He pulled her towards him and she came willingly into his arms, pressing her face against his chest and simply hanging onto him. They remained that way until with a sigh she pulled back and frowned up at him.

"My point still stands though. If you do not want to go, and I wouldn't blame you for it if you didn't, I can easily just go with Aunty Em and be back here in London on Monday… which would give Lestrade just enough time to start panicking because he'll figure out he can't live without me." She said and he rolled his eyes.

"I'm coming." He said and she sighed.

"Final offer, you have to meet my parents and even I wouldn't want to do that." She said and his interest, rather than being dissolved actually perked a bit. At the obviously sneaky look on his face she glowered threateningly up at him.

"Oh no you don't, if I find you snooping around my parent's house this weekend I will post that picture of you up onto John's blog for all of Scotland Yard to see." She threatened and he frowned trying to remember what she was talking about.

"The one with the lipstick." She reminded him and he slapped a hand to his forehead.

"Oh of course you still have that picture…" He muttered and she nodded sweetly.

"I'm sure you have your own blackmail for me somewhere so really I'm just keeping my ammo pile stocked." She said happily and he smirked.

"Wouldn't you want to know?" He said casually and moved to sit back down on the couch. Picking up the book and burying his nose in it he tried to ignore the only woman in the world he truly feared apart from his Mother. He felt her sit down next to him and carefully avoided making eye contact.

"As a matter of fact Sherlock I would very much like to know." She said and he smirked into the page. Suddenly she plucked it from his hands turned it the right way around and put it back. Damn it!

"It helps to convince people you are ignoring them when the distraction is the right way up." She teased and he frowned up at her.

"Maybe I'm trying to prove a theory on human brain capacity, if we can read scrabbled words why not upside down ones?' He stated and she chuckled.

"Only you would make such a ridiculous theory sound plausible Shirley." She said sweetly and he growled at the nickname.

"Never mind. However my threat still stands Sherlock… snoop and you will suffer." She warned and settled against the other armchair.

"No heels on the couch." He said and she flipped him the bird before slipping the 5 inch black stilettos from her feet and tossing them at his head. He dodged, wary of the spiked heels that could easily lose him an eye. Glaring at each other they stayed that way until John arrived back up the stairs.

"Guys?" He called but neither moved.

"Hello, cab's here." He said and finally after another moment's pause the two turned simultaneously to face him.

"Thank you John, I'll be down presently." Charlie said and stood. Tugging the hemline of the thigh length black pencil dress she looked around for the matching heels. Seeing them beside him Sherlock casually picked them up and held them while she fetched a wide brimmed black hat, complete with a fine veil. The hat had been a source of contention in the flat, Sherlock had deemed it unnecessary and Charlie had volunteered to make him unnecessary. According to her it had been her mother's and she had refused his suggestions of setting it aside. Giving him a warning glare she placed it daintily on her carefully made up hair before extending her hand towards the shoes. He smirked and handed the over, before standing and walking to the door. Familiar trench coat in hand he passed John with a clap on the shoulder and walked out of the apartment to the cab. Mrs. Hudson was coming later, but she kissed Sherlock merrily on the cheek before reentering the house. A moment later John appeared, dressed somberly in black and leading Charlie out to the cab.

"Where to?" The cab driver asked and Sherlock answered.

"Train station." He said.

"Business or pleasure?"

"Neither." Charlie said as she stepped delicately into the cab. The driver took in the silky black number she wore and nodded.

"My condolences." He said and she waved nonchalantly. Settling next to Sherlock she sighed and relaxed against the stuffy old seats as John closed the door behind him. The three of them sat in silence as the cab took them to the station. Not a word was said as they unpacked and entered the crowded place. The train left the station ten minutes later and Sherlock watched Charlie turn a rather pensive stare towards the rapidly passing grays and rubble of London. She seemed to be dwelling on something sad, the expression on her face twisted in silent grief as she watched the dismal scenery flash past. John pulled out his laptop causing Sherlock to lean over and tug the machine from his grasp, much to the owner's disapproval. He fired it up and typed in John's new password.

"How could you possibly know it was that?" John demanded and Sherlock sighed.

"John, since you have moved in you have created no less than 15 different password for this laptop… my only question is how long is it going to take till you use that wonderful imagination and give me a real challenge?" He returned smartly and John frowned.

"I will now, what are you doing?" He asked and Sherlock ignored him, pulling up a long hidden file he'd kept inside the other man's computer. After scanning it frustratedly he logged off and returned it t John who raised an eyebrow at him quizzically.

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies." Sherlock muttered and closed his eyes as he relaxed against the hard backed train seat. Charlie looked over at the pair and smiled tightly.

"Oh please Shirley, unless it's the sexual life of our favourite Sergent there's nothing you don't like talking about more than a good old 'let's screw John Watson over'." She said and Sherlock snorted.

"True but then again the sound of your voice always puts me off, not to mention I have enough dignity to refrain from annoying you whilst that photo hangs over my head." He said and she smirked.

"Good boy, see John I told you I'd get through to him one day." She said and the ex military doctor shook his head exasperatedly while obviously changing the password to his laptop for the 16th time. London was fading away to be replaced by greenery, a voice told them Cardiff would be another hour and a half causing Charlie to roll her eyes and shake her head.

"I remember having to do this trip every morning and night before I moved to London…" She trailed off suddenly and frowned. Sherlock quirked his brow and she shook her head.

"You never did tell us what caused your move; I just assumed your Mother had something to do with it." Sherlock said boredly and she nodded vaguely.

"Oh yes, Mother." She said and he leaned forward.

"If I asked her, would she tell me?" He asked and she nodded.

"Yes." She said simply and Sherlock felt John's elbow in his side and decided if he wanted to maintain movement in his ribcage he was going to shut up for now at least. He sat back in his chair and waited for Cardiff to arrive, his eyes glued to the melancholy woman in front of him.

Charlie POV:

Cardiff was cold. She always remembered that small fact, even though she hadn't stepped foot in the place for almost three months. Nothing however prepared her for the frigid air that greeted her and her companions as they stepped out of the train and onto the platform. She picked up the small suitcase she'd brought and looked disparagingly around the place, remembering the last time she'd boarded a train here with a small groan.

"Come on let's get this over with." She said and led the two men towards the main street, hailed a cab with the help of Sherlock who even in Cardiff managed to attract the hired help and clambered gracefully into the back.

"The Old Myer's Place." She said and the driver looked at her for a moment.

"Good God, is that you Charlotte?" The man asked and she tossed her head irritably.

"Yes. I suppose everyone's heard about Francis?" She asked and he nodded sadly. Starting the engine he pulled away from the curb.

"Yes, poor boy. I remember you two running amuck all those years ago… Old Mrs. Myer's still gives us nightmares." He teased and despite her mood she cracked a small smile. He grinned and continued the journey in contemplative silence. In fifteen minutes they pulled out of town and down a country lane, Charlie's stomach knotting itself as the familiar hedges came into view up ahead. The cab stopped outside a pair of wrought iron gates which, after a brief interlude with the speaker at the gate, swung open and allowed them entrance to Charlotte's one time home. John's eyes were wide as he gazed around the expansive front lawn of her Mother's home, staring at the sweeping green lawns and the red bricked mansion at the top of the slight rise. The cab stopped and Charlie paid the man, whom she called Nicholas, who reached out to cuff her fondly on the shoulder before driving away. All three of them paused at the foot of the stairs before Charlie huffed and stalked up the marble steps to bash harshly on the oak door. She waited, arms crossed and a dour expression on her face, until it was opened to reveal an older gentleman with no hair and a sharp, detached air about him. He stared down a beakish nose at Charlotte, his eyes widening in recognition, before he hurriedly ushered them inside the enormous house.

"The mistress is in the receiving room with your Aunt, Uncle and Father." He said and she nodded stiffly.

"Thank you James but I'd like to go to my room, I am tired." She said and he nodded leading them through the surprisingly bright atrium towards a grand staircase. Walking into the manor was like walking into a picture book. The walls and floors were painted and styled in bright almost garish colours and the furniture was a mismatched assortment of thrift and priceless antiques which although unusual actually matched the chaotic rooms they were in. Charlotte gazed around the house in disgust. They followed James upstairs where he guided each person to their own room. John and Sherlock were on one side of the corridor and Charlotte was taken to her old room, directly opposite theirs as some misguided twist of fate would have it. She turned to look at her old room in trepidation, taking in the only room in this house she had actually liked due to its subdued colours and matching furniture. She flung her suitcase onto the bed and sat down. Gazing at the pictures and memories around her she was reminded of all the times she and her brother had been in here as children, hiding or playing at turns. A knock at the door made her groan. She went and opened it and quirked a brow at Sherlock who was smirked at her.

"Now Charlotte, let's be a good hostess and show your guests where they can sit and chat." He mocked and she fought the urge to slap him upside the head. Sighing she rolled her eyes and stepped out of her room. Without a word she lead him downstairs and into the receiving room, painted canary yellow and forest green with at least red matching furniture, where her adoptive relatives all sat and waited. The footman at the door beckoned them in, his eyes lingering on one of the occupants for longer than necessary before closing the door swiftly behind them. Sherlock flashed her a look that reminded her of a child at Christmas and she inwardly groaned. Her adoptive mother, Karen, was sitting on a velvet armchair. Her Aunt Tessa was sitting in the next chair, head buried as always in a book without bothering to look up at the intrusion. At least Tessa was still the same. Her Mother was dressed primly in a full-length, black gown and she looked beautiful. Thick dark curls were tied back in an intricate knot at the back of her head and bright red lipstick brought out the deep blue eyes that seemed to scan every inch of her body and dress before finally zooming to look at her face in exasperation. Ignoring her Mother's stare she turned to look at her younger brother instead, pursing her lips at the sight of him. Standing by the fire place he looked well, having put on at least five pounds since she'd last seen him and a speckle of grey now flecked the dark hair at his temples. Lachlan Deans' was about 50 and still oozed charm wherever he went. She stretched out a hand for him to bring to his lips and kiss turning her gaze to the final occupant in the room. Her adoptive Father Timothy looked up at her guiltily. He sat near his wife with his salt-and-pepper beard partly obscuring the apologetic twist of his lips. He stood and moved towards her, at 6'1 he was nearly the same height as Sherlock. She gave him a look of expectation before turning to look at Sherlock and smiled benignly.

"Mother, Father this is my flat mate Sherlock Holmes." She said and both parents immediately nodded towards their guest. Sherlock smirk made Charlie cringe and she turned to her Uncle and Aunt.

"Sherlock, my Uncle Lachlan Deans and his wife Tessa." She said and he nodded, shaking hands with Lachlan and barely casting a glance over the latter.

"Lachlan, how long have you been pretending to yourself that your wife is faithful?" He asked and Charlie groaned.

"Sherlock please don't." She begged but he simply grinned at the expressions of shock on both her relatives faces, Tessa having dropped the book her hands. Sherlock smirked at her and she blushed vivid red.

"I don't see how it's any of your business, boy, considering it's also not true." Lachlan said tartly and everyone heard Tessa's shaky intake of breath. Deciding to leave that tangled web of a marriage alone Sherlock then turned to her parents, sticking out a hand to shake her Father's hand and place a mocking kiss to her Mother's knuckles. John entered the room and one look to Charlie's face made him sigh. He crossed over and stood beside her.

"Mr. Myers, twice around the world I see. Business or pleasure? No I see a tan definitely pleasure." He said and Timothy pursed his lips.

"As a matter of fact I was in the Bahamas two days ago." He said and Sherlock smiled thinly.

"Of course you were." He said and turned to face Charlie who although angry, had her own slight smirk on her face. He bowed mockingly to her and she threw him a glance that told him to behave.

"Mother, Father this is Dr. John Watson, he's recently returned from duty in Afghanistan." She said and John smiled politely as his introductions were sent around the room and the atmosphere lightened considerably. She was grateful to his presence, Sherlock was a stirrer and John had a knack for settling the situation down before real shit hit the fan. The introductions done Charlie sat down and decided to ignore her parents and focus her attention on Sherlock who was trying to look around the room, instinctively, for mysteries.

"Sherlock remember our talk?" She reminded him and he smirked. He stalked over to where she sat on the couch and planted himself beside her, almost toppling poor John off the damn thing.

"See it's not so hard to behave." She said and he chuckled.

"I suppose, easier than talking to ones relatives by the looks of things." He said and she sighed.

"Not going to let this one go are we?" She mused half-heartedly and she shook his head brightly.

"Should have seen that coming, well what do you want to talk about Mother?" She directed towards the stiff woman who jumped at her address and smiled sheepishly at her only surviving child.

"How are you?" She asked politely and Charlie smiled.

"I am quite well thank you Mother?" She said and the woman nodded, looking at her husband for help.

"What do you do Mr. Holmes?" He asked and John groaned. Sherlock smirked at his friend and explained his job.

"I'm a consulting detective.' He said and her Uncle, still sore from the earlier conversation snorted.

"There's no such thing." He said derisively.

"Please, I invented the job. Of course you haven't heard of it." Sherlock retorted and sent a bored expression around the cheerful room.

"I really like this room, very appropriate for a funeral." He said bemusedly and Charlie winced at the reminder.

"Sherlock behave." John reminded their friend who simply rolled his eyes.

"Who wants to behave? Dull." He announced and John shook his head and another knock came from the door. They waited and about ten minutes later Mrs. Hudson walked through the door.

"Charlie!" She said ad walked to embrace her darling niece. She turned on the two men with frowns of disapproval.

"Sherlock, what have you done to my family… I haven't seen them this uptight since the Christmas of '82." She said smartly and he looked mock offended.

"Mrs. Hudson I haven't done anything." He said primly and she patted his cheek fondly.

"Of course not." She said sarcastically before turning to face her brother in law.

"Timothy, aren't you going to come and hug your sister or do I need to remind you of the Christmas of '82?" She threatened and her brother came forward to kiss her cheek stiffly.

"Ah Karen, good to see you." Aunt Em said and the two women exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes before silence fell again. Charlie looked at the clock on the mantel. It was nearing five and she wanted to get on with the funeral before she throttled someone. James appeared beside her and she jumped.

"I beg your pardon but there's a phone call for you." He said and she excused herself. A phone was pressed into her hands and she put her ear to it.

"_Dia dhuit, Col ceathrair ionúin." _A cheery Irish voice called and Charlie immediately smiled.

"_Dia dhuit Jim." _She answered and heard him chuckle.

"I just wanted to ring and say sorry for not being able to be there today." He said and she sighed.

"I know Jim, Francis would understand… how's it all going?" She asked and he chuckled.

"Fine. I moved to London a few weeks ago." He said and she grinned into the hallway mirror.

"I though I heard a rumour, where are you staying?" She asked.

"East Side." He said cryptically and she frowned.

"Jim you're not still hanging with those _baotháin _are you?" She demanded and the silence on the other end of the phone spoke volumes.

"Jim please be careful, you're the only family I've got left now." She said and swore she heard him sigh.

"I know Charlie and I don't like upsetting you but… I'm in too deep now." He said and she shook her head sadly.

"Jim? I know this might sound stupid but can you settle down a little if you are still in the business… I've been hearing things." She said.

"What things?" He asked and his usually cheerful voice had gone quiet.

"Moriarty. Jim, how many Moriarty's are there in the London phone book?" She demanded and he chuckled.

"So that's what this is… don't fret_ a mhuirnín. _How's Countess Dracula?" He asked and she cracked up.

"Positively bloodthirsty, the old cow sized my dress up the moment I walked into the room and can barely speak to me… thank god Sherlock's here." She muttered and Jim chuckled.

"Sherlock? Who's this, a boyfriend perhaps?" He teased and she swore at him through the phone.

"Damn it Jim. Sherlock and John are y flatmates their here for moral support because you flaked out on me." She said tartly and he sighed.

"Ouch Charlie, ease up on the old boy would you?" He pleaded and she smiled again.

"Not a chance. Thanks for calling Jim, I needed it." She said.

"You know I am always here Charlie, we'll talk soon alright?" He said and she nodded.

"You nodded didn't you?" He teased and she grumbled.

"Alright Darlin' I'll let you go but promise to send Francis off in style for me… don't let old maid Myer's ruin it alright?" He said and she giggled.

"I won't. _Tá grá agam duit Jim._" She said.

"_Tá grá agam duit Charlie._" He answered. They both hung up and she smiled as she handed to phone back to James.

"Good news Miss?" He asked and she smiled.

"My cousin, making today bearable." He nodded and walked away. Charlie screwed up her courage and headed back to the receiving room. The clock chimed on 5 just as she entered and she looked outside to see the cars already awaiting them.

"Alright everyone, time to send my Brother off in style." She said cheerfully and winked at Sherlock as her Mother's horrified gasp echoed through the room.

The service was short but covered the basis. While her Mother sobbed in the front pew with her husband's arm wrapped tightly around her, Charlie sat stiffly next to Sherlock as the priest went on giving the service. On her other side was Aunt Em who was sniffling quietly into her handkerchief and on Sherlock's other side sat John. The graveside was filled with her adopted family and a few well wishing family friends who all sat and gossiped as the man droned on.

"I believe Francis' sister has a few words to say before we send our brother off to his final rest. Charlotte, are you ready?" The kindly old man asked and she nodded. Rising to her feet she walked steadily to the front and took the priest's place at the front of the congregation, staring out into the tiny sea of faces she felt suddenly and irrevocably alone. She looked down, took a deep breath and began.

"My Brother Francis was… alive. He wrung the life out of every moment he had and forced those around him to do the same. He pushed me to be better, to go further simply because he believed that inside everyone there is an entire ocean of talent to give." She said and froze. Her throat closed and she swallowed thickly.

"F-fancis was my brother but he was a-also my best f-friend." She said shakily and coughed.

"After our parents died it was just us…" She stopped and brought a trembling hand to her mouth for a moment. She looked down at the be-flowered coffin beside her and stretched out a hand to rest it on the ebony casket.

"_Tá grá agam duit anois is choíche Francis. _Until next time I see your face I will only say that I am sorry and I will miss you more than anyone here will ever know." She said softly and pressed a kiss to her fingertips. Gently caressing the coffin lid she bid her brother a final farewell.

"Some people are so afraid to die that they never begin to live. This was not Francis and if the smug git were here he would tell each and every one of us to just enjoy the life around us, to do whatever we want and damn the consequences… it's how he lived and I know he probably regretted nothing." She said, knowing in her heart this was probably far from true. Glancing up she saw her Mother crying softly and instantly the anger for the older woman disappeared. She smiled comfortingly at Karen and was awarded with a watery one of her own.

"Friends gather here today to pay respect to a great man, my brother, and I want to thank you all. _Imígí faoi shíocháin_." She said and walked back to her seat steadily to listen to the final part of the ceremony and watch as the coffin was slowly lowered into the ground and the group filed slowly past. Old school friends and her adoptive family went by, condolences and the like spilling out and she turned to Sherlock with a dismal expression.

"Let's get out of here, one more 'I'm sorry for your loss' and I'm going to lose it." She said and he grinned.

"I thought you'd never ask." He murmured and helped her up and out of the cemetery. John followed and the three of them walked through town to a small pub. It was called the Drunken Irishman and had been a favourite haunt for her on weekends while she lived here. Karen and Timothy were over in one corner surrounded by mourners and well wishers. Charlie nodded at them and found a table, signaling for a drink from the barman. A few minutes later all three had a strong beverage in front of them and a toast led by John saw them downing the damn things like starving children. Charlie banged hers down a mere second before Sherlock and sneered at him.

"Shirley you'll have to do better than that to beat an Irish lass." She said smartly and he smirked, turned and ordered another round. Her eyes widened.

"You did not just challenge me?" She demanded and John groaned.

"Does everything have to be a competition between you two? Can't we go for drinks without the pair of you going off at each other?" He asked and was dutifully ignored. Another round appeared and the pair stared at each other for a spilt second and went to down the second glass. Again she beat him by a split second and he muttered darkly.

"Irish through and through." She reminded him and he smirked.

"Fine, I concede for now." He said and she winked.

"If you won… what would the prize be?" She asked and her voice lowered about two octaves. John spluttered at the changed and turned beet red but Sherlock merely chuckled.

"I get a prize? Now I have incentive you are a doomed woman my dear." He said and she smirked.

"Alright Shirley, I bet if I can drink you under the table tonight that photo is going up on John's blog regardless of any snooping or non-snooping you end up doing." She said and he sighed.

"And if I win?" He demanded. She looked puzzled.

"I have no idea, what do you want?" She asked and he smirked.

"I'll tell you if I win." He said and she cried out.

"Not fair." She said and he shrugged. John effectively shut them up and sent Sherlock for another round.

"Charlie is this wise?" He asked and she smiled, not even feeling buzzed from the first two rounds of beer.

"It's fine John, I've been drinking men large than him under the table since I was 15… don't ask." She said as he sent her an amused look.

"Something tells me I don't want to know." He said and she nodded.

"How's Sarah?" She asked and he sighed.

"I've received about fifteen messages from her, she'd worried something will happen while we're away but I just keep telling her things will be fine." He said and she nodded.

"She also wants you to know she'd thinking of you." He said and she smiled.

"She'd so sweet, you're a lucky guy John." She said just a Sherlock returned with stronger beverages. Charlie took a look at the whiskey and whistled.

"Good to see you're not a lightweight." She said primly and he chuckled.

"Not on your life, you talk like an Irish girl but I have yet to see if you can drink like one." He said and she bristled.

"Hand it over Holmes." She said and he smirked, handing her the dink and watching as she began to quietly sip the pint. After about 40 seconds she'd finished and turned to look at them expectantly, her brilliant green eyes shinning beneath her crimson fringe.

**Time lapse: six hours later…**

**John POV:**

"Alright that's it… I'm calling it a night, or morning really." Jon said exasperatedly to his companions who turned to look at him smugly.

"Goodnight J-john." Charlie announced and Sherlock, who looked ready to actually pass out, merely waved. The doctor chuckled and left them, calling a goodnight to the barman and indicated to the two remaining occupants with a shake of the head. The older man chuckled and nodded.

"I'll see them safe." He said and John sighed. Stepping out into the street he signaled a cab and gave it the directions home. The Myer manor was still alight when he arrived and he passed Karen in the hall as he entered.

"Oh goodnight John, I hope you had an alright time." She said and he nodded.

"Great thank you." He answered, she smiled.

"Is Charlotte behind you?" She asked and he shook his head.

"Still shoot whiskey with Sherlock." He said and she frowned.

"He better not take advantage of her." Karen said dryly and John shook his head.

"I doubt it, sociopathic tendencies as all." He said and she sighed.

"Alright John, goodnight." She said and disappeared. He sighed himself and headed upstairs. Within moments of entering the room he was asleep, passed out on the bed with his shoes still on.

**Sherlock POV:**

"Sherlock, a-are you okay?" She asked slowly and giggled. He titled his head drunkenly and grinned at her.

"Never better Charlie." He said and she smiled. The barman came over and told them he was closing. She nodded and stood, dragging Sherlock after her. The good man hailed them a taxi and sent them off home, shaking his head bemusedly. In the back of the cab Charlie snuggled into Sherlock's side and smiled up at him. He rested his head against the back of the seat and allowed the movement of the car to relax him. Her slim body pressed against his side and he suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to reach down and kiss her. He shook his head.

"Kiss…" He muttered quietly and she looked at him.

"What?" She asked and he shook his head.

"Nothing, just muttering complete and utter nonsense." He said and she grinned.

"As opposed to when your not?" She teased. He frowned as they pulled up at her home. The two of them spent a few minutes trying to untangle themselves and exit the car, resulting in her nearly falling over and him having to grab her shoulders.

"I win." He said and she snorted.

"No." She said and he quirked a brow.

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"Draw?" She asked and he thought over it.

"Fine." He said and she smiled happily. He liked it when she smiled.

"What would you have done if you won?" She asked as they sneaked past the receiving room and up the stairs to their rooms. They paused outside his room and he titled his head. He leaned heavily against the door, finally managing to fumble it open.

"I would ask you…" He said and paused. She looked up at him and he noticed they were still somewhat entwined. Her arm was twirled around his waist and his own appendage was wrapped securely around her shoulders. He turned to face her squarely and peered down at her. She moved against him hugging him fiercely.

"Thank you for coming Sherlock, I needed you today." She said and he nodded. She waited and he leaned closer. She sighed and tilted her face closer.

"I would ask you…" He said softly as she smiled. He really did like her smile.

"Yes…" She breathed and he leant closer.

"I would ask you to kiss me." He said and she sighed. He froze then relaxed. She looked so sweet and happy he couldn't stop it if he tried. Slowly, giving her plenty of time to move away he lowered his mouth and gently brushed her lips against his. She moaned and he felt a lightening bolt strike him right up his spine. She drew away and he saw a feral gleam in her eyes that excited him.

"Charlotte." He began but she cut him off. Launching herself at him, she forced him inside the room, kicking the door shut. He stared down at her in shock.

"You won." She said and her lips were on his before he could move to stop her.

**OMG you are all going to hate me but I could not help it. I ran out of pages and I know this means that you will follow my story and review… even if it is only to hurl abuse at me *dodges rotten vegetable*. **

**Translations:**

_**Dia dhuit, Col ceathrair ionúin = Hello, my beloved (first) cousin. **_

_**Baotháin = Idiots**_(a milder form due to the somewhat social taboo of blatant name calling with this phrase)

_**a mhuirnín = my darling**_

_**Tá grá agam duit = I love you**_

_**Tá grá agam duit anois is choíche = I love you now and forever**_

_**Imígí faoi shíocháin = Go in Peace**_


	9. Chapter 8

**Eight**

**OMG that might just be the last time I ever do a cliffy. Nah just kidding, if it hypes you all up as much as your reviews did me than I will continue to delight, annoy and impress the lot of you simply because "absence makes the heart grow fonder."**

**First off I would like to thank: **

Totopup, **Oh yes! Your back, thanks for the review and for all your constant advice over the months. I hope this installment meets your very expectant standards, don't worry about the time lapse life gets in the way and all that jazz… enjoy and keep the advice flowing, you know how I love a good chat **

abby102030405060708090, **fear not for his precious virginity, I have a few tricks up my sleeve about that and about your picture, her hair is the same shade but just a tad longer. **

Drottningu**, thanks very much ad I hope I do the meeting justice.**

Amysmiles**, I'm sorry it's taken so long and I hope the wait was worth it, if not please feel free the berate and flame me… I only serve to please you know? **

gimme shelter**, I disagree, I can put a cliffy in but I hate putting you all through the trail by waiting… I hope this little tibit helps sooth the soul… I had a great time writing it. **

SanctuaryLover**, **** I will give more… don't fret. **

Bookwormiie, **thanks a bunch, I hope the wait is worth it… I love a good cliffy because I actually get to see how people feel about the fic and I must say everyone's reviews have been so lovely I simply couldn't resist extending the wait just a tad (also my download went over so I had to wait until it reloaded oops)**

XxLovelyLittleMeXx, **Im sorry if my stopping annoyed you, trust me when I say would have loved to continue but as you say my brain and creative juices have their own minds and I can do nought but obey. Hope this is enough to savour and enjoy. Thanks for reviewing,**

ChibiCupCakeChild, **Your back hurray! Thanks for all the reviews! Yes as you say s**t's gonna fly but that's for my next story so wait up for it. I agree Sherlock's an adorable drunk… wish he was my adorable drunk *sighs***

Pinkbeca, **Alright calm down, if your heart rate was any faster you'd go into cardiac arrest *smiles* it's so lovely to see excitement for something I write you have no idea how much your review delights me. **

aandm20, **Thanks a bunch. **

**all of you were so helpful in your reviews and I take everything good and helpful to heart in hopes that I may one day live up to your wonderful expectations. **

**This chapter was written while in a state of euphoria, my crush and I spent the day together ALONE. Nothing happened you perverts out there, it was just nice to spend time with him after, count it, 6 weeks of isolation! Enjoy?**

Charlie POV:

He stiffened, as she knew he would, for a split second. She too was as stiff as a board, waiting for him to give in. Screwing her courage to a sticking place she pressed on and as her hands moved to clasp behind his neck she felt the tense muscles beneath her fingers relax. She felt his own hands tease the flesh of her back and leant into him gently. She moaned into his mouth, the sound muffled as his lips softly moved against hers. She broke away and stared up at him dazedly, her head fogged with the alcohol in her system and the feeling of his touch on her body. His hands were in her hair now, smoothing the crimson strands as he pulled the bun apart slowly and kissed her once more. She reached up and grasped him by his own dark curls, slanting her mouth across his in desperation.

"Sherlock…" She moaned and his answering groan set her alight within. His hands, which had previously been tangled within her hair, moved down her shoulders and suddenly seized her tightly around her waist, pulling her into his chest as his arms wrapped around her and he backed away from the door. She felt the trail of his hands on her hips and back as though fire itself was trailing the skin there. She pulled back and stared up into his face. His usually bright blue eyes were clouded and her own widened slightly as she recognised the emotion swirling in them.

"Charlie I…" He stuttered and she placed a finger to his lips as she smiled up into his, for lack of a better word, frightened face. His eyes were full of doubt but there was another emotion in them that filled her with yearning.

"Don't talk Sherlock, just do… we can worry about it all in the morning." She promised and her words wiped the indecision from his demeanor and he grinned; his familiar trademark smirk a-lighting his features as his hands ghosted her spine and sent her body into pleasant tingles. He backed away and must have hit the bed because the pair tumbled onto it a moment later. She was sprawled atop his chest and his grin broadened. Pulling her closer until their lips met once again she felt another moan ripple up from the depths of her throat. Her eyes closed and she felt the flame of his hands kindle a spark deep within her core, a swelling of places best left alone… until now. She moaned and her hips ground into his as his hands released the tight muscles of her neck and shoulders. He pulled his lips away and she moaned in frustration until he chuckled, his breath moving on her throat and sending her senses crashing. His mouth found the sensitive junction of her neck and shoulder and she arched against him as he sucked the delicate skin there, marking her as his and his alone. Through the whirls of pleasure she could feel his fingers tracing the contours of her face and opened her eyes to find him staring at her. She blushed and looked down. Two fingers pulled her chin forwards as he forced her gaze back to his and smiled softly. She could see the daze in his eyes and knew, through her internal mist, her own was just a glazed.

"No regrets Charlie… not tonight." He said and she nodded, closed the gap and pressed her lips once more to his. Her hands came up and she grasped at the buttons of his jacket, drawing them apart and tugging the damned thing from his slim shoulders. Beneath the typical trench coat her fingers grasped at the tie and buttons at his collar, tugging all apart or off wherever the case needed. Her fingers glided over the smooth expanse of his chest and he shuddered beneath her at the obviously unfamiliar touches. As his mouth once again attacked her sweet spot she ghosted her lips over the smooth skin of his throat and chest, drawing the silken shirt away as her mouth approached. He was not busy either. Through a haze she felt his fingers clasping at the stubborn zipper at her back and pushed away from him. He stared up at her in confusion, his hair messed and his eyes wide with hurt. She straddled in hips and ground against him, loving the groan she elicited from him as he buckled beneath her. The feel of him through her panties was enough to send her crazy already and she ground against him again as her hand traveled behind herself and pulled the zipper down. She watched as his eyes followed the movement of her dress, watched as the illumination struck when her shoulders bared. She slipped the black, mourning confection from her shoulders and leaned down to kiss him once more.

"Mine." She whispered ferally into his ear before attacking his neck. Biting the delicate skin carefully she felt him tense as she broke the barrier and a single drop of ruby red spilled. She licked it before drawing away and admiring her handiwork, yes that was definitely going to leave a mark. His blue eyes were pinning her and suddenly he growled and flipped them neatly. Now she was beneath him, her dress being tugged brutally from her frame and onto the floor behind them. She gasped as he once again attacked her neck, sucking the sensitive skin and sending her mad. The lips trailed down until the graced the place between her breasts.

"I love it when you don't wear bras." He muttered and she felt her cheeks flame.

"Watching were we?" She asked tartly and he chuckled, skimming his lips across the sensitive skin beneath her peaks and running his hands up her back. She arched against him, pressing closer. Both were now obviously shirtless and she grinned, pulling her head down to her breast.

"Definitely a pervert, even if you are a virgin." She said softly and he flinched.

"I…" He stuttered but she pulled his face upwards to stare at him happily. She pressed a kiss to his lips, pouring everything she had into the simple touch.

"I must say though Sherlock… you are good." She said teasingly and it was his turn to blush, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'internet' under is breath. She laughed quietly then moaned as his mouth found her taunt nipple and he bit it gently. She screamed and arched against him, her nails clenching into his back. She curled into him and moaned as the bite turn into a suck. Her core was on fire, there was a tightness inside her like that of rubber band stretched to its pleasurable limits just below her belly button. His hands skimmed her bare belly and a finger traced the silver scar that adorned the skin of her hip and waist. She flinched away but his hand was persistant. He drew away and forced her eyes to his. He looked down between them and the scar; an ugly, twisted blemish of white against her skin, curved from around her back down towards her pubic bone, stopping just an inch shy of permanent damage. He looked up at her and she prepared for the horror that always came but to her surprise all she saw in his eyes was his instinctive interest and… arousal. His fingers ghosted the slightly raise skin and he leaned forward to press kisses along its length, sending her into puddles of jelly as he approached her apex. She moaned as he approached the place she wanted him most. She'd had enough teasing. Her hands stretched down to his belt and she fumbled through the buzz and pleasure until with a final tug, his pants reunited with his shirt and tie on the floor. Realising her intentions Sherlock clasped her by the waist and moved them further up the bed, laying her upon the already folded down sheets. His hands were at her hips and he trailed his fingers across the band of her panties, eliciting her own moans of pleasure. A finger dipped in and she felt him penetrate her secret area. Arching into him she curled one leg over his hip and brought him closer. Her hands reached up, clasping his dark hair, and pulled his lips to hers for yet another searing kiss. Never breaking the contact she slid her hands down over his shoulders and back into they too rested on his boxers. With a quick move the flicked them down, using her feet to tug them the rest of the way. He growled, not to be outdone, with a ripping sound her panties came loose and were flung away somewhere. Completely bare she moved against him, rubbing her pelvis into his and moaning at the sensation of his hardness against her wet centre. His finger was pressed to her nub and she screamed as he swirled it gently, sending wave upon wave of pleasure through her body.

"Sherlock! She moaned and felt him smiled against her neck.

"That is it." She whispered and her hand closed around him, making the detective flush and go rigid. She moved her hand, pumping up and down his shaft in almost brutal movements. He groaned and arched against her.

"Charlie!" He moaned and she sighed. She squeezed and he groaned again, pressing closed and causing their centres to meet. Instantly she wanted him inside her.

"Sherlock, I need you now." She begged and he chuckled.

"I thought you'd never ask." He teased, easing her legs part and positioning himself between them. She thus forward as he thus down and both cried out at the shock. The fit was tight and she felt as though she would burst. Slowly she relaxed, just as he began to move. His hips moved forwards and she curled the leg around his back even tighter around him, pulling him closer as they moved. He wouldn't last long, fact of life, and she knew her own peak wasn't far. The rubber band was stretching and as he started to move disjointedly she began to move less than smoothly herself. Suddenly he froze and a loud groan issued from his lips, liquid heat flooded her and she gasped. He rode through it and she came not a moment later, her band snapping and her limbs spasming wildly. When she could move again she felt as though all the energy had been sucked from her body. Sherlock was still above her and his eyes widened slightly.

"Sorry." He muttered stiffly and rolled off. She sighed and turned to face him. His arm was still at least wrapped around her waist and her leg was still thrown over his hip. She smiled at him and he grinned, his eyes slightly more glazed than before.

"That was…" He began and she closed her eyes.

"Almost a good excuse for Anderson's affair… I could never see the reason behind sexual affairs until now, that was possibly the greatest experience of my life." He muttered and she reopened her eyes confusedly.

"Sherlock?" She said quietly and he looked over at her wearily.

"Correct me if I'm wrong but did you just tie in a compliment on my sexual performance with a scientific conclusion on Anderson's sex life?" She asked and he swallowed.

"Perhaps." He drawled and she shook her head sadly.

"Well I'll take the bloody compliment but for god's sake… don't ever compare me to that poor excuse of a forensic expert." She warned. He nodded. She smiled softly and he smirked.

"Charlie… why did you do that?" He asked and she frowned.

"Do what?" She asked and he grinned as she yawned.

"Agree to lose, you won." He said and she smirked.

"I knew what you wanted… and I wanted it too." She said and he frowned.

"How could you…" He began but she cut him off by placing a finger to his lips.

"Sherlock, shut up." She said and he did. She settled her head against his chest and closed her eyes. Exhaustion was settling over her and she knew tomorrow… dear god tomorrow. She flinched but let her mind relax into the afterglow. As she drifted, and later she would doubt he had done so at all, she felt his lips brush over her own and a faint whisper in her ear tell her three sweet little words she thought he had never understood.

Pain filled her temples as the world came slowly into view. The light from the semi-open curtain pierce her eyeballs with all the agony of a stab to the gut. She moaned and shifted, feeling a tug on her waist as she did so.

"Oh shit." She muttered and with a sinking feeling rolled over to face the person lying next to her.

"Fuck." She breathed as Sherlock's sleeping face came into hazy view. Her temples may have pounded and her body ached all over but there was single though racing through her head as she stared at the sleeping man next to her. RUN. Carefully she extracted herself from beneath his arm, creeping cautiously backwards and off the bed. She froze as he mumbled in his sleep, moving slightly as she stood stuck to the spot. When neither his eyes opened nor his mouth curled up into a smirk she knew she probably had less than five seconds to get the hell out of that room. Skirting the room she found all her clothes lying in tangled heaps on the floor. She pulled on the torn panties and held the dress to her chest. At the door she paused. She felt sick leaving him like this, as though they had done something wrong… as though she was skulking off in the dead of night like a prostitute visiting a married client. She hung her head and looked over at him. Fuzzed images ran through her head but if she tried hard enough she could make them fainter. If she hadn't woken in his room she could have convinced her self that nothing had happened at all… that was it! With a small sigh she walked over to where he lay and pushed a pillow into his embrace. He clung to it like a child and his lips curved into a small smile. Calling all the sociopathic skill she had she made herself believe that smile didn't mean a thing. She nodded and left the room. Checking the hallway carefully before making a quick dash to her room. Once inside she ran to her suitcase, flung it open and grabbed her pajamas. The headache in her temples was killing her and she staggered to the bed, dropping her dress and shoes beside it and pulling the shirt on. She only got that far. Thanking whatever deity existed for the previously prepared beds of her house she crawled beneath the sheets and closed her eyes. The pounding lessened as the darkness came. She sighed and dug into the pillow. A single memory stood out from the nights events and she felt the twinge between her legs at the thought.

"He doesn't speak Gaelic… it was only a dream." She muttered before sleep came and pulled her away.

John POV:

He chuckled at the sight of his two friends as they entered the kitchen at well past 12 o'clock in the after noon. Although glad to see they had made it home he was slightly worried at the identical greenish pallor the two of them sported. Charlie moved towards him, her movements studied and tired, before parking herself down in a chair and sinking her face into her awaiting arms, folded on the table before her. Sherlock didn't fare much better. The detective moved with less of his usual swagger and a great deal more care as he too sat down beside Charlie and turned a baleful eye on her.

"Charlotte, if you ever make me do that again…" He trailed off as she looked up at him.

"Shoot me." She said and he nodded.

"I was going to say I would never speak to you again but that would do just as nicely." He said tartly and both winced as John let out a bark of laughter.

"Late night was it?" He asked loudly and they both growled at him. He offered them a pair of steaming mugs, coffee for Sherlock and tea for his Charlie. She smiled and grabbed it, sipping it carefully and allowing the green to fade from her cheeks. Sherlock also accepting the mug and nodded at his flat mate. There was silence until John couldn't hold it inside anymore.

"So…" He began but the pair glared.

"Shut up" They yelled and winced, glancing at each other warily.

"Charlotte?"  
>"Sherlock?" The pair began together and stopped, frowning. They looked at each other for a long moment, John felt as though he was intruding on a conversation only they could understand, before nodding and burying their faces into their respective mugs. John sighed and stared down at the paper before him.<p>

"Charlie your Mother wanted to talk to you before you went to sleep last night, did she catch you?" John asked and Charlie shook her head.

"Of the fuzz that I can remember after that fifth round of schnapps… I don't think I had the pleasure." She said and he nodded. Sherlock frowned.

"You remember nothing after that?" He asked and she rocked back on her chair and seemed to think about it.

"I remember a taxi." She said and nodded slowly.

"Anything else?" He demanded and she frowned, shaking her head.

"Why?" She asked and he shrugged, nonchalantly to anyone but his two flatmates.

"Nothing… flashes." He remarked dryly and she nodded, patting him soothingly on the arm. John smirked as he jumped.

"Now you know what it's like for the rest of us mortals… forgetting things sucks." She said teasingly and he scowled. John laughed and stood. He smiled and winked at Charlie who frowned at him. He looked at Sherlock and saw the dark haired man was busy in his coffee. She waved him away and he nodded.

"See you two later… going for a little sight seeing." He said and they ignored him, as usual. He walked out and down the corridor.

"John?" He heard Karen call from behind him and he turned to smile politely at the pretty woman who was approaching rapidly.

"Hello Karen." He said and she smiled.

"I see you've found Charlie then, she and that boy must have snuck passed me last night." She muttered worriedly and he smiled.

"They got in safely, if you can call the double hangovers safe." He said and she shook her head.

"I better go see her then." Karen said and moved off towards the kitchen. John watched as she disappeared. Shrugging he moved to the front of the house and out the front door, pulling out his phone he saw a new message from Sarah and grinned.

Sherlock POV:

Never again. That was the single thought that ran through his mind as he sat and stared at the fiery haired woman beside him. She looked about as bad as he suspected he did and fought the chuckle that welled within him. His skull seemed at least three times too big for the skin that surrounded it and there was a special pounding within his temples reserved especially for a level of hell as yet undiscovered. He groaned and slumped in the chair as John left. She looked over at him and nodded.

"Sherlock… do you remember anything after we got home? She asked and he frowned. After their fourth round of schnapps he had felt his usually bright mind detach slightly and everything thereafter was more than a little fuzzy. A strange memory, dreamlike in its solidarity returned, he flinched. It was bodies moving together in a way he'd never done so before, a flash of red hair and he shook his head to relieve himself of such images. He looked over at his room mate and sighed.

"After round four, things are a little… odd." He said gently and she nodded.

"Well memories mixed with alcohol can never be trusted." She said smoothly and winced, obviously in the throws of a particularly painful pounding. She moved to the sink and placed her mug inside it. She turned and leant against the marble topped counter, smiling weakly at him. He returned it but a second creak by the door made him cock his head towards the figure of Charlie's adopted mother who waited there. Charlie's eyebrow rose and she beckoned her mother inside. Karen approached and sat down. Her hand reached out and a single red tipped nail began to tap the polished surface.

"Hello Mother." Charlie said quietly and Karen smiled.

"Hello my darling, good afternoon Sherlock." She said and he waved, rocking back on the chair to place his feet on the table. He watched her eye him distastefully before ignoring him and turning back to her daughter.

"Charlotte… I just wanted to talk to you, in private." She said and Sherlock smirked. Charlie sat down next to her mother and shook her head.

"Karen, whatever you have to say can be said in front of Sherlock." She said stiffly and he quirked a brow at her. She nodded, silent permission. The finger tapped faster but everyone ignored it.

"Fine." Karen said tensely.

"I just want to apologise… for everything. You were right and I was wrong." She said and Charlie coughed.

"I should never have sent you to that _school_… I should never have separated you and Francis, you were right when you sent word of his… behaviours and I should have believed you." Karen said softly and Charlie snorted.

"Yes you should have." She said stiffly and Sherlock smirked.

"You should also apologise for the drinking." Sherlock said casually and secretly delighted in the woman's shocked. The fingers stopped tapping.

"Who could you know…?" She began and he smirked.

"You tap." He said and she frowned.

"In recovering alcoholics it's a common habit to pick up, first it's a conscious effort to count the hours between drinks, soon the taps turn into a way for a coping recoveree to handle temptation, very soon after it transgressed into unconscious movement, an inbuilt habit that announces past addiction. Not only that but last night at the pub you not only refused drinks but you consciously watched as your adopted daughter single handedly devoured at least a quarter of the bar before you left." He said casually before deciding to push it home.

"Shows a regret at not protecting her before… a guilt that you hoped to put away by watching over her last night and making sure she got home this morning." He said quietly before leaning back and she frowned. Tuning to her daughter she stared and Charlie shrugged.

"He's a consulting detective, you saw him yesterday… he's the law enforcement's only fall-back, fail-safe solution." She said softly and Sherlock grinned proudly.

"You think so?" He asked and she smirked.

"Half the time, when you leave heads in the refrigerator I reconsider." She said and he frowned. She smiled at her mother and reached forwards the grasp the woman's hand.

"I noticed Karen, not a single drink and I know what it was all those years ago… that's why I don't blame you anymore." She said softly and stood.

"I'll never forgive you for sending me away… Francis could still be here but… I forgive the years I spent in this house where it was safer to live in the dog houses than anywhere near your person." She said and Karen flinched.

"What about…?" She asked and Charlie frowned.

"The accident, we'll see." She said and indicated for Sherlock to come as well. His interest perked he motioned for her to leave. She frowned but a thought crossed her mind. She nodded and disappeared.

"Karen, it's not the drinking that worries me… it's more the fact that you locked your youngest adopted child up in a sanatorium for the rest of her childhood after she turned 15 simply because she displayed sociopathic tendencies." He said softly causing the woman to flinch and look down.

"I wasn't in my right mind… I was in bad shape, Charlotte was just too much for me to handle." She said and buried her face into her hands. Sherlock scowled.

"Too much to handle… or too close to the truth for you to handle?" He asked and she looked up at him in horror. The blood drained from her face and she swallowed.

"Does she know?" She asked and he shrugged. Standing he moved to the door. Faintly he could smell the remnants of Charlie's perfume and the drift of it stopped him dead. He paused and a blurred memory of that morning flashed in his head. He had awoken and found himself not only naked but embracing a pillow… most odd. Gazing around he had, through the pain in his head seen his clothes flung around the room. There was no one there and by all accounts there had never been but a faint smell permenated from the sheets beside him and he had dismissed it that morning but now… without another word to Karen he ran through the house and up to his room. Ripping the door open he prepared to investigate the bed but… paused in the doorway to survey an already made room. He turned and approached the door opposite his own. It opened and Charlie emerging from her room, her room in disarray behind her.

"Sherlock, you look confused?" She said and the statement came out questioning. He stared at her incomprehendingly and finally fixed her with a gazed that had often worked before. She flinched but stared back.

"What happened last night?" He asked and she smiled. He leaned against the door jamb.

"When you remember let me know…" She joked and he frowned.

"What do you remember?" He demanded and she shook her head.

"A taxi, sneaking upstairs… flashes." She said softly and he leaned closer.

"Flashes?" He said and she nodded. He saw she was wearing a black turtleneck and a pair of jeans, he frowned. An image resurfaced… a white scar, a kiss, he shook his head firmly.

"Your scar…" He muttered and she froze. He pounced on that.

"I remember… something about it." He said slowly and she bit her lip.

"You've seen it then?" She asked and he nodded. She pursed her lips.

"My parents died in a car accident and I nearly went with them… do we have to do this now?" She asked and he shook his head, thoroughly confused. Flashes of images cascaded him but none of it made sense. There was no proof and Charlie's room had clearly been slept in… he'd peered over her shoulder as she'd opened the door. He smiled at her and she grinned back. It had been a dream.

"A dream…" Charlie asked and he realised he'd spoken aloud. She was looking at him curiously and he stumbled slightly to regain control of himself.

"Ah yes, I blame your copious amounts of alcohol." He said and she smiled. He was convinced now the flashes were simply alcohol induced blurs and shook his head. That was definitely the last time he drank with her.

"Irish lass through and through." She said and he grinned. He extended his arm and she accepted it happily.

"Where did John go?" She asked as she closed her door and came downstairs with him.

"No idea." He answered and the pair went off in search of their missing friend. Two days later the four inhabitants of 221B Baker Street returned to London.

**OMG OMG OMG I can't believe I'm doing this but… that's it, fini… wow what a ride that fic was but I have to cut the plans short so I can get my next fic done it time for the arrival of Second Season of Sherlock here in Australia dun dun dun! Alright for those of you who are interested in my next fic I plan to call it A Greater Game for Three. Coming to a Fanfiction sight near you. Hope you enjoyed this, I know I did. Love to all and Reviews are welcome. **


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